THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


FACTS    AND    FANCIES; 


A  COLLfiCTIOJf  OV 


POEMS. 


JOHN   BRAYSHAW   KAYE. 


CHICAGO: 

GEORGE   MAC  DONALD    &    CO, 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 

GEO.    MAC  DONALD   <fc   CO. 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


0 


TO 

MY   MOST  CONSIDERATE   READER 

AND 
KINDLIEST   CRITIC, 

MY   BELOVED   WIFE, 

THIS   LITTLE  VOLUME   IS   AFFECTIONATELY    INSCRIBED. 


INDEX. 


PAGE 

THE  JOURNEYINGS  OF  FANCY,        -           -           -  II 

SWEET  LAKE  OF  GENEVA,         ...  22 

THE  HAPLESS  BIRDS,                                                            -  28 

MOONLIGHT,        -  34 

LIVING  IN  THE  PAST,                       -           -           -           -  37 

ALONE  ON  THE  LAKE -SHORE,  -  45 

THE  HUMAN  FACE,  -                                                             -  57 

NOVEMBER,                                                           -            -  C"2 

To  A  FAVORITE  COUSIN,      -           -           -           -  64 

ACROSTIC,                                                             -  69 

NIGHT,                                                                                    -  71 

WHAT  is  WEALTH  ?       -  74 
REPLY  TO**-            -                        -           -           -76 

THE  MORNING  WALK,  -----  79 

BIRDS  OF  SPRING,     -                                    ...  Si 

BEAUTIFUL  DEWDROPS,  -            -           ...  83 

THE  SUMMER'S  EVE,                         -           -           -  86 

KITTY,    -                                                ...  88 

WILLIAM  AND  WINNIE,        -            -            -           -            -  90 

MY  DESTINY'S  STAR,                              .            .           ,  94 

ACROSTIC,  FOR  A  LADY  FRIEND,    -           -           -           -  96 

To  A  YOUNG  LADY  KNITTING  A  "  TIDY,"      -  97 

LOVE,             -                        -----  99 

THE  IRISH  EMIGRANT'S  FAREWELL,     -  101 

THE  HERMIT'S  LAMENT,      ...  103 

THE  OLD  YEAR,                         -  105 

CHICAGO  IN  ASHES,  ------  107 


10  INDEX. 

PAGE 

THE  DRUMMER  -  BOY'S  FATE,    -  in 

IN  THE  DEEP,  TANGLED  FOREST,  -  -     114 
THE  IRISH  EMIGRANT'S  DYING  FAREWELL  TO  HIS  LOVE,     116 

I  LOVE  THEE  STILL,     -  119 

THE  SOLDIER'S  FAREWELL,-  -     121 

SINKING  OF  THE  NORTHFLEET,  -                        -  123 

STORM  AT  SEA,         -  126 

THE  PITILESS  SNOW,     -  127 

JOHN  BARLEYCORN,  THE  HIGHWAYMAN,    -  -     131 

POP- CORN,  138 

PROLOGUE,     -                                              ~  -     142 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  FRIEND  AND 'TUTOR,    -            -  145 

IN  MEMORY  OF  JOHN  HEYWOOD,  -  -     150 

THE  NATION'S  REBUKE,  154 

GREELEY  IN  MEMORIAM,      *  -    158 

CHARLES  SUMNER,  163 

SPRING,                                   -  -     166 

SUMMER,-  170 

AUTUMN,        -            -           -                        -           -  -174 

WINTER,-                                              -           -        \..  177 

POEMS  OF   THE   FAR    WEST. 

THE  LITTLE  LONE  GRAVE  ON  THE  PLAINS,          -  -     183 

WESTWARD,         -           -            -            -           ....  186 

SUNRISE  IN  THE  SIERRAS,    -           -           -           .  .     189 

THE  MINER'S  BURIAL,  -           -           -           -           -  193 

THE  MIRAGE,            -            .  •          ...           .  -     195 

MUSING,  -            -           -           .           .           .           .  199 

A  RIDE  DOWN  A  FLUME,   -           -           ....  -    203 

THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  ROSE,            -           .           -  210 

To  A  Moss- AGATE,                     .    -  x                    -  -    222 

THE  GOLD  -  SEEKER'S  DREAM,  -            ...  225 
THE  Ox -TEAMSTER  OF  WASHOE,  -            ...    234 


THE  JOURNEYINGS  OF  FANCY. 


O  soul  of  Poesy  !  wild  Fancy's  self !    . 

What  pen  can  paint  a  semblance  of  thy  flight  ? 

Thou  nameless  genus,  phantasy  or  elf  ! 

The  lightnings  scarce  are  swifter,  nor  the  light, 

When,  glancing  westward,  on  morn's  early  ray, 

Pursuing  darkness  on  the  wing  of  night, 

Or  night,  in  turn,  victorious  o'er  the  day. 

While  earth,  a  quadrant,  on  her  axis  rolls, 

And  turns  Sol's  morning  glance  to  midday's  beam. 

Thou  'It  revel  hours  alternate  at  the  poles, 

Climb  icebergs,  wanton  in  the  mellow  gleam 

Of  fair  Aurora's  smiles  ;  to  feed  thy  zeal 

Draw  nurture  from  the  udder  of  the  seal. 

Now  plunging  fearless  in  the  unknown  deep. 
Sporting  with  meek -eyed  monsters  of  the  wave, 


12  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Scanning  the  briny  caves  where  silent  sleep 

The  shipwrecked  thousands  in  their  wat'ry  grave, 

To  view  their  several  postures  as  they  lie ; 

To  guess  their  feelings  when  the  last  quick  breath 

Was  stifled  by  the  wave ;  O,  their  strange  quality 

Cannot  be  told.     Life  lingering  into  death. 

A  world  of  waters  all  around,  above 

Dim  waters  still,  and  then  the  far  blue  sky. 

They  see  it  all  in  thought ;  the  voice  of  love 

They  hear  ;  life's  varied  scenes  all  fly 

In  pictured  pantomime  before  the  memory. 

Here  lies  the  gallant  tar,  whose  chief  delight 
Had  ever  been  to  plow  the  raging  sea, — 
His  cradle  and  his  home,  and  now  despite 
His  grave, —  wild,  heaving,  boundless,  free. 
And  here  the  miser,  pillowed  in  the  sand, 
As  he  would  bribe  Saint  Peter  at  the  gates, 
Still  grasps  his  gold  within  his  bony  hand, 
And  Michael's  trump,  the  signal,  grimly  waits. 


THE  JOURNEYIXGS  OF  FANCY.  13 

Here  still,  two  lovers  sleep  to  wake  no  more ; 
Strange  tale  it  were  and  wild,  and  sad  to  trace  ; 
How  they  had  wandered  from  their  native  shore, 
And  sunk  together  through  the  stifling  space 
In  love's  despairing,  endless,  last  embrace. 

But  now  away  in  quest  of  other  scenes, 
The  valleys  of  a  sunken  world  t'  explore. 
'Mong  sunken  mountains,  caverns  and  ravines, 
View   the    strange   shapes    that   gliding   upward 

soar 

In  the  blue,  liquid,  silent  atmosphere ; 
Or  like  the  venomed  creeping  things  of  lands 
Now  risen  from  the  deep  (yet  ling'ring  near), 
Drag  their  slow  lengths  along  the  cringing  sands. 
Aquatic  plants,  and  fruitage  of  the  sea, 
Peculiar  shrubs,  with  foliage  quaint  and  rare, 
Such  things  as  none  might  dream  could  ever  be, 
And,  Fancy,  only  thou  couldst  linger  there, 
And  its  strange  scenes  with  other  worlds  compare. 


14  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Where  wilt  thou  next  ?    Thou  fain  wouldst  linger 

still 

And  further  wander  through  a  world  submerged, 
But  ha !  what's  this?  e'en  thou  dost  shudder  chill, 
And  inly  wish  thy  stay  had  not  been  urged. 
A  ghastly  row  of  grinning  skeletons! 
The  slaver's  cable  bore  them  to  their  doom. 
Forced  from  her  decks  by  hellish  myrmidons, 
They  sank  in  fetters  to  a  welcome  tomb. 
O  fearful  specters  !   chain  -  gang  of  the  deep  ! 
Methiuks  your  latest  breath  like  incense  rose 
In  sparkling  bubbles  through  the  wat'ry  steep. 
And  soared  to  heaven  on  the  wing  of  woes 
To  cry  'gainst  slavery  and  freedom's  foes. 

Behold  the  Nautilus,  whose  tiny  sail 

Bears  his  slight  bark  before  the  gentle  breeze, 

The  winds  increasing  to  tumultuous  gale  — 

u  Furl  sails  !  close  hatches  !  sink  into  the  seas  ! " 

Thus  the  pert  mar'ner  like  a  pilot  stands, 


THE  JOURNEYINGS  OF  FANCY.  15 

Himself  alike  ship,  captain,  mate  and  crew, 
To  give  alike  and  to  obey  commands ; 
A  merchantman  full-rigged,  complete  and  ne\y, 
Skimming  the  surface  when  the  weather  's  fair, 
Laden  with  sunshine,  then  his  craft  is  seen, 
Crammed,  too,  for  future  use,  with  wholesome  air; 
The  cargo  's  shipped  !  prepare  for  change  of  soene  ! 
Down,  down,  away  to  haven  submarine. 

What  now,  O  Fancy !  sink  again,  to  dwell 

In  the  calm  stillness  of  aquatic  time  ? 

Or  change  thy  hulk  for  some  superior  shell, 

The  better  thus  to  woo  the  fabled  Nine  ? 

Let 's  find  the  "  Northwest  Passage  "  if  we  can. 

No  icebergs  turn  thee  from  the  arctic  path  ; 

Frost  and  starvation  chill  corporeal  man, 

But  thou  canst  careless  brave  their  fiercest  wrath. 

But  no,  I  only  feel  thee  listless  pause, 

As  if  to  say,  "  What !  prostitute  my  powers  ! 

Am  I  a  leader  in  stern  Science's  cause  ? 


16  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

No  !  rather  let  me  climb  the  coral  towers, 
Or  woo  the  mermaid  in  her  ocean  bowers." 

To  fair  Minerva's  realms  away  in  haste, 

To  bask  once  more  beneath  the  glowing  sun, 

In  peopled  thoroughfare  and  desert  waste 

To  muse  in  silence  till  the  day  is  done. 

Now  groping  through  the  murky  moonless  night, 

Shrouded  in  mystery  and  deepest  gloom, 

Exploring  caverns  whence  the  streaming  light 

Is  shut  forever ;  even  such  the  tomb. 

The  vaulted  catacombs,  Avhere  each  grim  row 

Of  corded  relics  forms  a  scene  of  dread, 

In  winding  avenues  where  ceaseless  flow 

Strange  voiceless  murm'rings,  whisp'rings  of  the 

dead, 
Along  damp  corridors  whence  all  beside  has  fled. 

Climb  the  bank'd  clouds,  that  rear  their  giant 
forms 


THE  JOURNEYINGS  OF  FANCY.  17 

111  rugged  grandeur  'gainst  the  azure  sky, 
The  frowning  bastions  of  contending  storms 
And  floating  mountains  of  infinity, 
With  hoary  summits  gleaming  in  the  sun, 
Whose  ray  illumes  each  jutting  .spur  and  branch 
To  the  far  base, —  fixed  on  the  horizon, — 
The  vapory  wrecks  of  many  an  avalanche. 
Chaotic  shapes  in  wild  confusion  piled, 
With  here  and  there  a  fissure,  whence  between, 
A  patch  of  blue,  like  fair  Elysium,  smiled 
A  seeming  welcome  to  the  happy  scene, 
Where  spirits  from  the  blessed  isles  convene. 

There  's  action  in  the  air  !  the  sun  glides  down 
Behind  the  alpine  vapors  to  its  rest. 
The  clouds  are  scurring,  and  a  deeper  frown 
Overspreads  their  threatening  attitudes ;  the  west 
Looks  ominous  ;  while,  mutt'ring  from  afar, 
Thrilling  like  dread  the  fleecy  battlements, 
Speeds  the  deep  Thunder  in  his  rumbling  car. 


13  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

The  angry  mouthings  of  the  elements. 
The  rival  winds,  propel  the  warring  clouds ; 
Like  mammoth  navies  on  the  buoyant  tide 
They  grapple  hostile,  till  their  twisted  shrouds 
Are  interlaced,  and  then  the  dread  broadside 
Of  thunderbolts  dance  o'er  the  billows  wide. 

A  flood  of  fire  streams  o'er  the  face  of  night, 
And  lights  the  awful  scene  with  lurid  glare, 
A  flash  of  anger  that  appals  the  sight 
And  paints  behemoths  struggling  in  the  air. 
Then  all  again  is  darkness,  and  a  hush 
Of  labored  stillness  falls  upon  the  scene  ; 
While  low'ring  from  afar,  dread  incubus ! 
A  phantom  cloud  seems  scudding  to  careen. 
When  hark  !  behold  !  O  grand  but  fearful  sight ! 
The  zigzag  lightnings  hurtle  through  the  rain, — 
A  thousand  twisted  splinters  hissing  spite. 
'Tis  bound  Destruction  rends  his  fiery  chain, 
And  hurls  it  writhing  through  the  ethery  main. 


THE  JOURNEYINGS   OF  FANCY.  19 

Then  for  a  moment  all  again  is  dark, 

A  sombre  scowl 's   athwart  the  brow  of  night  ; 

Then  a  deep  fiery  flush  lights  up  the  arc 

Of  heaven's  inky  dome  ;  the  mystic  flight 

Of  the  assembled  shades,  to  their  far  bourne 

Beyond  the  confines  of  the  horizon, 

Is  only  equaled  by  their  swift  return, 

As  light  and  darkness  blacken  into  one. 

The  chafing  winds  are  hushed,  the  thunders  roll 

In  slow  majestic  cadence,  while  the  rain 

Close  follows  in  its  wake  to'ard  either  pole  ; 

The  clouds  expend  their  stores,  and  once  again 

Pale  starlight  glimmers  on  Earth's  moistened  plain. 

Away  again,  on  the  swift  wing  of  thought, 
Far  from  the  scenes  of  the  subsiding  storm  ; 
Away,  away  !  till  earth  appears  as  naught, 
A  very  speck,  too  small  to  take  a  form. 
Vastness  of  endless  space  !  O  mighty  sea 
Of  boundless  nothingness  !  no  limits  rise 


20  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

To  hint  the  confines  of  Infinity. 

While  through  the  gloom  each  mighty  planet  flies 

In  its  fixed  course  :  like  monstrous  beacons  bright 

They  cast  a  halo  toward  the  viewless  dome 

That  mantles  o'er  the  dread  eternal  night, 

Within  whose  clasp  suns  universal  roam, 

On,  on,  forever  in  their  trackless  home. 

Behold  great  systems  on  their  axes  roll, 
And  mark  the  grand  elliptics  of  their  way  ; 
While  constellations  traverse  round  their  pole  — 
The  children  of  Omnipotence  at  play. 
Magician  of  the  Universe  !  Thy  hand 
Controls  the  motions  of  these  circling  spheres, 
(Perfection  of  intelligence  hath  planned 
To  mark  duration  into  seasons  —  years), 
With  more  precision  than  thy  juggling  worms 
Toss  their  globules  of  cork,  which  catch  the  eye 
Of  him  who  for  a  moment  idly  turns 


THE  JOURNEYINGS  OF  FANCY.  21 

To  toss  a  penny  as  he  passes  by, 

But  never  looks  for  wonders  in  the  sky. 

From  where  Aurora  spreads  her  ruffled  bar  ; 
From  ocean  -  cave  and  subterranean  vault ; 
From  where  Jehovah's  thunder  rolls  afar, 
And  storm  -  battalions  countermarch  and  halt, 
From  darkness  which  is  blindness,  and  from  light 
Which  bursts  in  splendor  o'er  the  dazzled  gaze, 
From  day  perpetual  and  from  endless  night ; 
From  blue  expanse  and  far  chaotic  haze  ; 
From  place  to  place,  thus  hast  thou  bade  me  roam, 
Till  like  a  child,  when  wearied  out  at  play, 
I  beg  thee  now  to  bear  me  safely  home  ; 
Here  from  the  zenith  earthward  let  us  stray, 
Down  through  the  mazes  of  the  Milky  Way. 


SWEET  LAKE  OF  GENEVA.* 


Sweet  Lake  of  Geneva, 
Pure,  lovely  and  fair, 
Moore  sung  of  Avoca, 

And  Burns  of  "  Auld  Ayr ;" 
When  valleys  and  rivers  awaken  the  Muse, 
She  may  not  neglect  to  accord  thee  thy  dues. 

I  have  know  thee  from  childhood,  I  've  studied 

thy  ways  ; 

Thy  fountains,  thy  inlets,  thy  headlands  and  bays, 
Thy  shallows  and  depths,  are  familiar  to  me 
As  the  beads  to  the  maid  on  her  conned  rosary. 

My  happiest  days,  O,  I  feel  they  are  past ! 
('Tis  sad  that  earth's  happiness  never  can  last :) 

*  Geneva  Lake,  Wisconsin. 

(22) 


SWEET  LAKE   OF  GENEVA.  03 

They  were  spent  on  thy  waters  and  wandering  o  er 
The  hills  that  encompass  and  outline  thy  shore. 

Oft,  as  a  young  hunter,  I  've  wandered  alone, 
With  nothing  to  cheer  me  save  thee  and  my  gun ; 
And  when  weary  I  've  lain  on  the  soft  grassy  steep, 
While  the  voice  of  thy  waters  has  lull'd  me  to 

sleep. 

O,  such  slumber  as  that,  when  the  soft  sighing 

breeze 
Fills  the  soul  with  calm  gladness,  a  sweet  sense 

of  ease 

Steals  along  every  nerve,  a  true  vision  of  rest, 
To  sleep  on  forever  were  but  to  be  blest. 

' 
I  have  watched  thee,  dear  Lake,  when  sore  chafed 

by  the  storm  ; 

When  thy  waters  were  writhing  like  serpents  in 
form ; 


24  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Thou  hast  seemed  to  me  then  like  a  cauldron  of 

wrath, 
Boiling  over  with  vengeance  to  aught  in  thy  path. 

I  have  seen  thee  again,  lull'd  to  rest  by  the  calm, 
When  the  sentinel  hills  were  on  guard  'gainst 
alarm ; 

Not  a  breath  to  disturb  thee,  as  calm  tlry  pure 

* 

breast 

As  though  Winter  had  chained  thee  in  motionless 
rest. 

At  such  times  as  these  I  have  sat  in  my  boat, 

Like  a  moth  on  a  mirror,  an  atom  afloat ; 

As  silent  and  motionless  even  as  thee, 

I  have  gazed  in  thy  depths,  full  of  wonders  to  me. 

Beneath  me,  inverted,  lay  heaven's  blue  dome, 
With  its  cirrii  reflected  like  ridges  of  foam  ; 
And  a  spirit  within  me  hath  whispered,  "  Let  go, 
And  glide  to  the  ethery  concave  below." 


SWEET  LAKE   OF  GENEVA.  25 

I  have  started  at  this,  and  looked  up  to  behold 
A  rich  glowing  sunset,  in  crimson  and  gold  ; 
Sol  slowly  withdraws  from  a  scene  which  he  fills, 
And  smiles  his  farewell  from  Fontana's  green  hills. 

Now  the  dim  twilight  shadows  are  gathering  fast, 
The  pure  spirits  of  those  which  the  sunlight  has 

cast ; 

Now  they  melt  into  darkness,  or  all  fade  away, 
As  Night,  the  usurper,  asserts  his  wide  sway. 

O,  Lake  of  enchantment !  I  've  stood  on  thy  shore 
When  the  pale,  mellow  moonlight  hath  silvered 

thee  o'er, 

And  the  fishermen's  torches  have  shot  a  faint  ray, 
Like  the  first  early  stars  in  the  wake  of  the  day. 

Far  along  thy  still  waters,  some  young  spearsman's 

call, 
Borne  along  in  rich  cadence,  is  echoed  by  all. 


26  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Then  the  loud  plaintive  wail  of  the  breeze-stirring 

loon, 
The  Whip-poor-will's  chant  and  the  owl's  doleful 

tune. 

Such  impressions  as  these,  when  imbued  in  our 

youth, 

While  the  heart  is  the  home  of  affection  and  truth, 
Time  dims  not  their  luster  nor  weakens  their  sway, 
And  nothing,  save  death,  can  e'er  sweep  them 

away. 

Still  fondly  I  love  thee ;  to  view  thee  once  more 
Turns  my  memory  back  to  the  glad  days  of  yore  ; 
For  the  long  years  since  then,  full  of  changes  to  me, 
But  confirm  the  sweet  sameness  of  beauty  in  thee. 

Yet  in  time  not  far  hence,  these  fair  green  hills 

of  thine 
Shall  be  famed  as  the  cragg'd,  castled  banks  of 

the  Rhine ; 


SWEET  LAKE   OF  GENEVA.  27 

And  the  seekers  of  pleasure  shall  traverse  thee 

o'er, 
And  the  love  song,  and  war  song,  resound  'long 

thy  shore. 

Still  again  must  I  leave  thee  !     I  turn  to  depart, 
While  the  shadows  of  sadness  fall  thick  o'er  my 

heart. 

Must  it  ever  be  thus  ?  to  the  end  must  I  roam 
Far  away  from  the  scenes  which  my  heart  declares 

home  ? 

If  so  it  must  be,  O  then  still  let  me  pray 

That  some  last,  faithful  comrade  bear  here  my 

poor  clay ; 
That  my  dust  may  be  mixed  with  the  earth  of  thy 

shore, 
And  my  spirit  float  o'er  thee  till  time  is  no  more. 


THE  HAPLESS  BIRDS. 

A   TKUE   TALE. 


There  came  one  day  in  early  Spring, 

Two  little  birds  of  plumage  fair, 

A  timid,  warbling,  tuneful  pair, 

And  hovered  'round  on  cautious  wing, 

As  doubting  whether  it  were  best 

To  make  their  home  and  build  their  nest 

Beneath  the  porch.     There  all  secure 

Where  column  and  entablature 

Meet,  in  a  corner  snug  and  dry, 

The  tiny  warblers  soon  descry 

A  fitting  place  where  they  might  rear 

Their  feathered  brood  with  cautious  care. 

But  still  they  lingered,  nor  began 
As  yet  to  build,  but  seemed  to  scan 


THE  HAPLESS  BIRDS.  29 

The  quaint  old  house,  as  they  would  trace 

Some  sympathy  upon  the  face 

Of  those,  the  dwellers  of  the  place, — 

But  most  the  dark -eyed  Julia  ;  she 

Would  bid  them  welcome,  if  could  be. 

And  why  not  ?     Kindness  may  be  shown 

As  well  as  spoken  ;  and  be  known 

By  gentle  look  as  well  as  tone. 

We  may  hold  converse  e'en  with  birds  : 

Nature  makes  signs,  while  men  form  words. 

And  so  it  seemed  ;  for  when  a  day 
Or  two,  or  more,  had  passed  away, 
The  tiny  pair  seemed  reassured  ; 
Then  to  their  task.     They  soon  procured 
Full  many  a  twig,  and,  straw,  and  shred 
Of  fine  soft  wool,  and  fibrous  thread 
Of  silken  grassland  soon  complete 
Their  cosy  dwelling,  snug  find  neat : 


30  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  soon  five  tiny  eggs  were  there, 
So  pure  and  white,  so  truly  rare, 
Like  snowy  pebbles  from  the  strand 
Of  storied  lake  in  Fairyland. 

But  change  is  Nature  !  and  ere  long 

These  living  pebbles  (germs  of  song) 

Have  disappeared,  and  in  their  place 

Five  chirping  birdlings  lie  apace. 

And  Julia  oft  would  linger  there, 

And  mark  the  kind  provident  care 

With  which  the  mother  watched  her  brood, 

Or  winged  her  way  in  quest  of  food  ; 

Nor  long  until  she  would  return 

With  some  choice  morsel,  bug  or  worm  ; 

Then  welcoming  with  pleading  notes, 

Five  gaping,  supplicating  throats 

Were  always  ready  stretched  to  ask  : 

To  keep  them  fed,  no  feeble  task. 


THE  HAPLESS  BIRDS.  31 

No  longer  had  she  any  fear 
Of  Julia,  but  would  linger  near, 
And  gaze  with  meek  inquiring  eye 
Into  her  face,  and  oft  would  fly 
Within  the  house,  to  see  her  there 
While  busy  with  her  daily  care. 

One  day,  while  perched  upon  a  chair, 
A  prowling  mouser,  unaware, 

Stole  softly  in ;  it  made  a  spring 

Poor  bird  !  thou  nevermore  shalt  sing. 
No  more  the  glad  melodious  note 
Shall  issue  from  thy  joyous  throat : 
But  one  short  sudden  cry  of  pain, 
The  last  thou  'It  ever  make  again. 
Thy  nestlings  wait  for  thee  amain  ; 
Long  shall  they  wait,  but  wait  in  vain. 

Though  Julia  saw,  she  could  not  speak ; 
But  pallor  overspread  her  cheek. 


32  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  then  the  color  came  and  went, 
As  the  shocked  heart  its  message  sent 
And  then  recalled ;  and  then  at  last, 
When  she  remembered  all  the  past, 
Her  mind  proclaimed  her  pet  was  dear, 
Her  eye  indorsed  it  with  a  tear. 
And  then  she  thought  to  rear  the  brood, 
To  watch  their  growth  and  bring  them  food. 
Vain  thought !    They  sickened  one  by  one, 
And  singly  died,  till  all  were  gone. 

Thus  kindness  is  not  always  best ; 

We  oft  curse  whom  we  would  have  blest : 

Oft  heap  calamity  on  those, 

Our  friends,  we  scarce  would  wish  our  foes. 

And  when  't  is  past,  we  can  but  feel 

Our  error  or  mistaken  zeal. 

Thus  Julia  of  the  birds  would  say : 

"  Had  I  but  frightened  them  away, 

All  had  been  well  with  them  to-day  ; 


THE  HAPLESS   BIRDS. 

Then  had  they  built  in  some  green  tree, 
All  been  alive,  and  glad,  and  free." 
And  then  she  moved  the  nest  away  ; 
And,  so  that  others  might  not  stay, 
Placed  in  the  niche,  to  fill  the  space, 
A  mignonette*  in  an  earthen  vase. 

3 


MOONLIGHT. 


O  witching  moonlight !  chosen  light  of  Love  ! 
'T  is  thy  sweet  smile  that  lures  the  maiden  forth, 
To  wander  with  her  lover,  arm-in-arm, 
Through  shad'wy  grove,  or  by  the  lonely  rock, 
Or  murmuring  stream. 

Thy  filmy  veil,  enveloping  the  earth, 
Hides  all  its  sterner  features  from  the  view  ; 
Peoples  each  nook  and  glen  with  shad'wy  shapes  ; 
Curtains  each  tree  and  shrub  with  silvery  gauze  ; 
Forming  a  thousand  wild,  enchanting  bowers  ; 
Transforming  earth  into  a  land  of  dreams. 

Thy  halo  gifts  all  nature  with  a  voice. 
The  sighing,  whispering  trees,  each  dew -gemmed 
leaf, 


MOONLIGHT.  35 

Each  waving  blade  of  grass,  e'en  silent  stones 
Seem  eloquent ;  and  in  their  varied  tongues, 
In  mutest  whisperings,  speak  of  love. 

Thy  fav'ring  ray,  seen  glim'ring  from  afar, 
Calls  Cupid  from  the  hazy  realms  of  space, 
And  hies  him  to  the  earth  in  Love's  campaign, 
Armed  and  equipped  ;  his  bow  a  tempered  moon 
beam, 

His  arrows,  love  -  tipt  shafts  of  quiv'ring  light. 
Sweet  woe,  and  blissful  torture,  seize  all  hearts 
That  brave  his  power  or  tempt  his  matchless  skill. 
Thy  light  is  all  for  Love,  and  Love  alone  ; 
Hatred  and  Vice  shrink  from  thy  gaze  abashed, 
While  weazen  -  faced  Cupidity  forgets  himself, 
And  Avarice  is  bartered  off  for  Love. 

Thou  wert  not  present  when  the  Evil  One 
Crept,  like  a  serpent,  into  Paradise, 
To  lure  our  parents  forth  in  sin  and  shame, 
And  heap  calamity  on  all  their  kin. 


36  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

But  thou  art  leaving  us ;  farewell,  farewell ! 
Thy  author  sinks  below  the  western  hills, 
The  length'ning  shadows  chase  thee  o'er  the  lea, 
The  frown  of  darkness  clouds  the  brow  of  earth, 
An.d  all  again  is  stern  reality. 


LIVING  IN  THE  PAST.* 


Friend  and  companion  of  my  early  years ! 
Your  "  lines  "  call  up  a  host  of  memories 
That  lie  close  to  my  heart  as  do  the  tears 
To  a  fond  mother's  eyes ;  and  as  the  breeze 

• 

Wakes  from  their  rest  the  fallen  autumn  leaves, 
And  winnows  them  to  drifts  among  the  trees, 
So  't  is  the  wafted  breath  of  bygone  days 
Collects  the  threads  of  memory's  web,  and  weaves 
Their  perfect  semblance  in  the  tinted  maze. 

Men  are   but  boys  with    beards,    and  care,   and 

thought : 

Forgetting  these,  they  might  live  o'er  again 
The  simple  pleasures  which  their  boyhood  brought, 

*  Written  in  reply  to  some  Verses  of  a  Friend. 
37 


38  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  happy  be,  and  joyous  now  as  then. 
»  But  to  forget,"  you  '11  say,  "  it  cannot  be. 
Forget  our  toils,  and  cares,  and  troubles,  when 
They  meet  and  cling  to  us  on  every  side  ? 
When  wide  awake  can  we  forget  to  see  ? 
Or  on  the  flying  train  forget  to  ride  ?  " 

No,  true  ;  but  there  are  times  when  we  may  rest ; 

And  then,  oblivious  to  all  beside, 

Live  o'er  again  the  olden  times  with  zest 

By  contrast  doubled ;  that  was  then  denied. 

And  we  again  in  fancy  may  call  o'er 

The  roll  of  our  companions  who  have  died, 

And  see  them  as  they  looked  so  long  ago, 

And  play  the1  same  old  games  again  once  more, 

And  listen  to  the  old  brook's  gurgling  flow. 

I  find  myself  at  times  in  the  old  yard 
Before  the  school  house,  early  in  the  day, 
Surveying  lines  across  the  level  sward, 


LIVING  IN    THE  PAST.  39 

Then  hear  the  famous  "  pom  -  pom  -  pull  -  away  !  " 

Then  scamper  off  to  reach  the  further  line, 

Some  nimble  dodger  pressing  on  me  hard, 

His  hand  outstretched  to  seize  my  wampus  skirt ; 

His  quick,  hard  breathing  imitating  mine, 

He  gains,  and  trips,  we  fall,  but  "  no  one  hurt." 

We  next  produce  our  implements  of  play, 

The  stitched  yarn  ball  and  rudely  fashioned  bat, 

Then  gather  round  in  circular  array ; 

The  game  proposed,  the  fav'rite  "  three  old  cat." 

The  bat  is  tossed  and  fisted  for  the  "  ins." 

"  Whole  hand  or  nothing  !  close  down  !  "  and  all 

that. 
"  One  out,  all  out !  choose  sides  ! "  and  "  My  first 

choice !  , 

"  And  I  '11  take  Abe  !  "  cries  he  who  hap'ly  wins, 
With  much  parade  and  highly  piping  voice. 

And  then  the  game  goes  on,  we  catch  and  throw, 
And  bat,  and  shout,  and  watch  our  chance  to  run, 


40  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And,  in  the  terms  of  twenty  years  ago, 
I  almost  scream  out  "  Golly,  aint  it  fun  ! " 
Our  little  sweethearts,  too,  are  standing  there,- 
For  you  and  I  at  least  had  always  one. 
(I  used  to  wish  I  had  a  floating  eye, 
To  gaze  upon  my  charmer  everywhere, 
And  scout  around,  a  sort  of  optic  spy.) 

Abe  was  my  bosom  friend  in  those  old  days, 
My  allied  force  in-  trouble  and  distress  ; 
He  took  my  part  in  many  various  ways, 
And  acted  Damon  to  my  Pythias 
In  all  save  this  —  he  was  American, 
And  used  to  say  to  me  at  times,  "  I  guess 
The  Yankees  are  the  bravest  men  afloat." 
I  was  a  stubborn  little  Englishman, 
And  this  assertion  tickled  in  my  throat. 

For  I  had  read  of  valiant  "  Hearts  of  Oak," 
And  heard  my  father  sing  the  Duke  of  York, 


LIVING  IN    THE  PAST.  41 

Rob  Hood,  and  Little  John,  old  Bolinbroke, 

Young  Hotspur,  and  some  other  human  stork 

Whose  names  now  slip  my  mind,  and  so  I  said 

"  He  either  was  mistook  or  in  the  dark." 

I  named  my  heroes  over  once  again, 

And  mentioned,  "  one  or  two  of  them  were  dead, 

But  England  always  raised  the  bravest  men." 

He  spoke  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  Washington, 

And  how  the  Yankees  down  at  Tip1  canoe 

Had  drove  the  British  under  Marion. 

"  He  guessed  he  knew  a  little  history  too  /" 

He  rather  beat  me  on  authority, 

And  then  he  whispered,  "  Tell  you  what  let's  do 

Who  do  you  think 's  the  bravest,  you  or  I  ?  " 

I  told  him,  "  Rather  guessed  that  I  must  be  ; 

But  anyhow,  at  recess  we  would  try." 

When  recess  came,  we  slipt  out  unobserved 
Behind  the  school  house,  where  none  else  could  see, 


42  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  by  the  glory  of  two  nations  nerved 

We  kicked  and,  cuffed  each  other  lustily. 

At  length  the  teacher  rapped  a  sash  ;  we  quit" 

The  rough  discussion  as  to  bravery ; 

We  had  to  go  ;  but  on  some  other  other  day 

We  'd  try  and  meet  again  to  settle  it, 

Unless  we  found  it  out  some  other  way. 

This  was  no  vulgar  brawl  which  I  relate, 

No  vent  to  personal  antipathy  ; 

Each  battled  for  the  glory  of  a  state  — 

The  State's,  not  ours,  defeat  or  victory. 

'T  was  fin'ly  settled  on  another  plan, 

That  is,  it  was  agreed  that  each  should  be 

Called  peers  in  courage,  causes  being  same, 

When'er  the  Yankees  or  the  British  ran, 

Such  was  the  circumstance,  they  bore  no  blame. 

In  thinking  o'er  these  scenes  of  former  times 
I  find  much  pleasure,  and  some  cause  for  grief ; 


LIVING  IN    THE   PAST.  43 

Such  feelings  call  to  life  these  simple  rhymes 
On  my  young  friend,  whose  fair  life  was  so  brief ; 
For  I  did  often  mourn  the  gallant  boy, 
Reproaching  Death,  that  like  a  skulking  thief 
Came,  as  a  dread  marauder  in.  the  night, 
And  robbed  a  household  of  its  dearest  joy, 
And  with  his  icy  digits  snuffed  my  light. 

Yes,  thus  he  died  ;  and  Ab  and  Jim  laid  down 
Their  hopeful  lives  that  others  might  be  free  ; 
And  like  two  severed  barges  drifting  roun', 
Wreck  of  the  fleet,  are  only  you  and  me. 
But  let  us  grasp  the  helm,  and  strong  and  firm 
Direct  our  crafts  o'er  life's  tempestuous  sea, 
Running  Death's  channel  under  safe  escort, 
Make  a  fair  showing  for  our  lengthened  term, 
And  bring  a  goodly  cargo  into  port. 

They  left  us,  and  we  struggle  on  alone  ; 

Still  hope,  and  toil,  and  trust  in  the  "  To  be," 


44  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  now  the  airy  dreams  of  youth  are  flown, 
We  grapple  with  the  grim  reality  ; 
We  labor  on  from  need  and  labor's  sake, 
And  feel  that  all  mankind  are  same  as  we, 
Serving  some  end,  in  high  or  low  estate, 
Giving  their  might  to  that  they  undertake, 
And  if  disabled,  calmly  "  stand  and  wait." 


ALONE   ON  THE   LAKE -SHORE. 

JULY,  1871. 


Sweet  Lake  Geneva  !  nursling  of  the  hills  ! 
A  rustic  bard  presumes  to  sing  thy  praise. 
Fair  tribute  of  a  myriad  springs  and  rills  ; 
To  thee  I  dedicate  these  simple  lays, 
For  thee  I  string  the  long  -  neglected  lyre  ; 
Let  Fancy's  thrilling  touch  awake  the  strain, 
Let  Truth  dictate  and  Memory  inspire : 
Time,  slack  thy  scroll !  I  am  a  boy  again, 
A  hopeful  voyager  upon  life's  main. 

'T  is  early  morn  ;  I  wander  'long  thy  shore, 
I  search  for  curious  pebbles  on  the  strand, 
Or  watch  the  eagle  o'er  thy  waters  soar, 
Or  dig  for  clam-shells  in  the  oozy  sand. 
But,  hark  !  what  joyous  sounds  salute  my  ear, 


46  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  echoing  roll  along  from  hill  to  hill  ? 
The  boist'rous  laugh,  the  long  -  continued  cheer, 
The  wild  "  whoopah  "  in  mimic  terrors  shrill, 
To  give  the  unintiate  a  chill. 

My  cheery,  wild  companions  !  merry  pack  ! 
In  single  file  they  haste  along  the  trail ; 
"  Hilloh  !  hurrah,  boys !  bully !  here  is  Jack." 
Now,  fellows,  wont  we  have  a  glorious  sail  ? 
"  Oh  no,  I  guess  not ;  Tom,  go  bring  a  rail ; 
You  get  another,  Bill,  we  shall  want  two  ; 
Get  nice  straight,  flat  ones,  hearties,  do  not  fail ; 
You  '11  find  some  split  upon  the  hill,  will  do, 
Close  by  the   coon -tree,  where  the  grape-vine 
grew." 

"  George,  did  you  bring  an  auger  and  some  nails  ?  " 
"  Yes,  here  they  are."     "  Good  ;  won't  we  have  a 

craft  ? 
Jim,  cut  two  bushy  cedars  for  -our  sails, 


ALONE   ON   THE  LAKE- SHORE.  47 

These  are  the  logs,  we  '11  soon  have  up  our  raft. 
Here  are  those  other  fellows  with  the  rails ; 
Now,  comrades,  pin  and  bind  her  fore  and  aft ; 
Now  launch  her,  boys,  the  breeze  delightful  hails. 
We  've  poles  to  steer,  and  willing  winds  to  waft 
Our  bark,  not  sharp  of  prow  but  light  of  draft." 

And  now  we  move,  and  now  for  greater  speed 

Is  many  a  wish  expressed  ;  to  swell  our  sail 

Our  scanty  wardrobe  must  supply  the  need  ; 

'T  is  quickly  doffed,  and  stretched  to  woo  the  gale. 

I  '11  venture  that  since  Noah  built  his  ark 

For  all  his  various  cattle,  two -and -two, 

That  no  man  ever  saw  another  bark 

So  quaintly  rigged ;  I  'm  sure  a  nuder  crew 

Ne'er  put  to  sea  since  first  the  breezes  blew. 

We  soon  are  borne  out  far  away  from  shore, 
Our  craft  would  fly  as  soon  as  make  a  tack  : 
'T  was  strano-e  we  had  not  thought  of  this  before. 


48  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

"  A  glorious  sail,"  but  now  the  getting  back. 
"  We  've  got  to  swim  it,  boys,  there  's  no  use  talk 
ing; 

A  precious  thing  it  is  we  all  know  how, 
As  fly  we  can't,  and  have  not  faith  for  walking  ; 
So  here  goes,  boys ;  who  takes  the  hindmost  now  ? 
But  hold !  we  must  not  leave  our  clothes,  I  vow." 

Each  wardrobe 's  gathered  from  the  leafy  mast, 

And  snugly  rolled  into  a  tidy  pack, 

Behind  the  shoulders  with  a  string  made  fast, 

All  ready  now  to  take  the  backward  track. 

A  cheer,  a  plunge,  we're   urging   through   the 

waves, 

We  're  facing  t'ward  our  native  beach  once  more, 
Our  youthful  limbs  the  bracing  water  laves  ; 
We  reach  at  length  that  happy  goal,  the  shore, 
All  tired,  and  faint,  and  glad  the  task  is  o'er. 

Would  tears  restore  them,  then  I  fain  would  weep  ! 
My  loved  companions,  O,  where  are  they  all 


ALONE  ON   THE  LAKE -SHORE.  49 

Who  on  that  day  climbed  up  the  slip'ry  steep  ? 
Methinks  e'en  now  I  hear  their  ringing  call, — 
"  Look  out  below ! "    With  headlong  furious  crash 
The  unearthed  boulder  plunges  down  the  hill, 
Greeting  the  waters  with  a  mighty  splash  ; 
They,  startled,  leap  in  many  a  branching  rill, 
A  wild  commotion  where  all  late  was  still. 

Those  on  the  summit  marked  the  boulder's  course, 
Its  each  revolving  bound  and  fearful  lunge, 
Till  near  the  brink,  when,  like  a  frightened  horse, 
Leapt  high  in  air  to  take  the  mad'ning  plunge. 
Then  rang  the  long,  loud,  wild,  exultant  shout, 
And  rolled  in  echo  'long  the  timbered  lea, 
"Huzzah!    huzzah!"      Then   some   shrill   voice 

called  out, 

"  It 's  in  the  lake  now,  boys ;  there  let  it  be, 
Till  moved  by  earthquake  or  eternity." 

And  then  the  battle  on  the  wooded  slope  ; 
Our  missiles,  mandrakes  growing  on  the  field  : 

4 


50  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Twelve  on  each  side,  and  each  a  "  forlorn  hope," 
Would  fall  if  need  be,  but  would  never  yield. 
But  ere  commencing,  'twould  be  only  right  — 
So  we  all  thought — to  fix  upon  some  plan 
Of  how  we  should  conduct  the  coming  fight. 
"  It  should  be  fierce  and  furious  as  it  can, 
And  yet  if  possible  not  lose  a  man." 

This  was  thought  good ;  we  did  not  then  divine 
That  Peace  and  War  ne'er  travel  hand -in -hand ; 
That  safety,  fury,  fierceness,  ne'er  combine 
To  make  the  sweeping  charge ;   but  thus  't  was 

planned. 

Our  weapons  should  be  mandrakes,  as  I  said  ; 
Of  these  we  'd  only  throw  the  very  softest, 
Each  should  fire  low,  to  save  the  other's  head  ; 
Those  should  be  beaten  who  were  hit  the  oft'est : 
The  short  ones  thought  this  partial  to  the  loftiest. 

For  further  stipulations,  they  were  these,— 
The  thing  should  all  be  done  in  Indian  style  ; 


ALONE   ON   THE  LAKE -SHORE.  51 

When  hotly  pressed,  we  'd  dodge  behind  the  trees, 
Use  ev'ry  sort  of  trickery  and  wile 
To  lure  the  foe  out  on  the  open  plain, 
Then  springing  forward  like  a  pack  of  hounds, 
Pour  down  our  bolts  swift  as  a  shower  of  rain, 
Covering  ourselves  with  glory  or  with  wounds. 
"Good,  good!"    all  cried,  and  off  each  faction 
bounds. 

And  now  the  fray  commences  with  a  cheer, 

Our  humane  stipulations  are  forgot ; 

As  the  contending  factions  draw  more  near 

Excitement  fans ;  the  flame  of  war  grows  hot, 

And  each  fought  but  to  conquer  and  to  be 

A  hero  in  embryo ;  sweet  to  tell 

Would  be  the  story  of  the  victory. 

Now  all  ring  forth  the  savage,  piercing  yell, 

Outvying  that  when  great  Tecumseh  fell. 

The* 'varying  tide  of  battle  ebbs  and  swells, 
Charge  and  retreat,  or  countermarch,  or  fly, 


52  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Till  sore  with  brittle  shot,  and  mellow  shells 

Which  burst,  in  darkness  veiling  either  eye, 

A  youthful  brave,  with  hands  raised  o'er  his  head, 

Fell  headlong,  with  a  cry  as  if  of  pain. 

All  stood  aghast !  we  thought  our  comrade  dead  ; 

His  body  rolled  lank  down  the  sloping  plain, — 

The  fray  was  o'er,  the  ruse  was  not  in  vain. 

Then  each  related  what  his  part  had  been 

In  the  late  action,  what  he  saw  and  felt, 

How  he  was  pummel'd,  being  in  between 

Two  storming  parties  ;  then  how  he  had  dealt 

His  swift -hurled  missiles,  how  he  had  to  beat 

(His  ammunition  gone,  he  sorely  prest,) 

A  quick  but  not  inglorious  retreat. 

"  But,  boys,  who  came  off  first,  who  second  best, 

Let  blackened  eyes  and  swollen  cheeks  attest." 

These  were  our  sports,  our  pastimes  and  our  joys ; 
Wild,  free  and  thoughtless,  few  we  had  of  cares — 


ALONE   ON   THE  LAKE -SHORE.  53 

These  find  small  favor  in  the  eyes  of  boys  — 

But,  Time,  thy  hand  hath  sown  these  noxious  tares 

In  rank  profusion  o'er  the  severed  few 

That  yet  survive  to  ponder  on  the  past. 

The  broken  remnant  of  that  merry  crew, 

Thou  hast  dispersed  them  as  the  whirlwind's  blast 

Scatters  the  autumn-leaves  at  random  cast. 

Where  are  they  now  ?      My  voice  breaks  from 

control, 
'Tis  loud  and  plaintive,  though  I  would  speak 

low; 

And  sympathizing  Echo,  from  the  knoll, 
Bears  back  the  import  of  my  query,  "  now." 
Aye,  "  now  ;"  why  not  ?     I  know  of  then,  't  was 

here  ! 

But  many  changeful  years  have  passed  since  then, 
And  all  that  youthful  band,  to  memory  dear, 
Who  now  may  live,  are  changed  to  scheming  men, 
That  ne'er  shall  meet  on  these  fair  shores  again. 


54  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Bright  Gem  of  Waters !  let  me  ask  of  thee  : 
Thou  wert  the  guardian  of  their  happiest  days  ; 
Where  are  they  now,  whose  wild  shouts,  glad  and 

free, 

Oft  made  these  green  hills  vocal  with  thy  praise  ? 
No  Moslem  ever  knelt  at  Mecca's  shrine, 
When  the  long,  weary  pilgrimage  was  o'er, 
With  purer  thoughts  than  they  have  bowed  to 

thine ; 

Thy  Kaba,  these  wild  hills,  this  curving  shore, — 
Where  are  they  now  who  seemed  almost  t'  adore  ? 

Thy  rippling  wavelets  glide  toward  the  shore, 

They  murmur  playfully  about  my  feet, 

They  seem  to  whisper  of  my  friends  of  yore, 

A  truthful  tale,  yet  mournful  to  repeat. 

"  Some  fill  the  soldiers'  grave  in  sunny  climes, — 

They  gave  their  lives  that  bondsmen  might  be 

free ; 
Some  seek  for  riches  in  the  distant  mines ; 


ALONE  ON  THE  LAKE -SHORE.  55 

Some  died  in  youth,  some  are  beyond  the  sea  ; 
All  have  forsook  our  presence,  all  save  thee." 

"  Oh,  for  the  power  to  build  the  lofty  rhyme  !  " 

That  ye  might  still  associate  in  song, 

I  would  abridge  my  days,  compound  with  Time, 

And  sink  to  sleep  among  earth's  vanquished  throng 

Without  a  murmur,  feeling  I  were  blest, 

In  that,  with  thee,  their  names  should  still  be 

known 

When  they  and  I  were  in  eternal  rest. 
It  can  not  be  !  the  past 's  forever  flown, 
And  I  must  wander  on  thy  shores  alone. 

Oh,  the  deep  import  of  that  word  "  alone  :  " 

I  never  felt  its  meaning  until  now, 

Though  I  have  wandered  in  strange  lands  where 

none 

Have  borne  me  company,  save  only  Thou, 
Spirit  of  Nature,  yet  I  felt  to  be 


56  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

In  fellowship  with  all  thy  various  shapes  ; 
But  here,  though  all 's  familiar  to  me, 
There  is  a  silent  emptiness  which  gapes 
The  soulless  solitude  the  hermit  apes. 

There  is  a  something  wanting  in  the  scene, 
(Faces  and  forms  I  shall  behold  no  more.) 
And  something  in  the  seer,  too,  I  ween, 
(That  youthful  buoyancy  naught  can  restore.) 
Thy  waters  are  as  clear,  thy  shores  as  fair, 
As  when  I  first  beheld  thee,  long  ago ; 
The  change  is  but  with  me  and  those  who  were 
Then  with  me ;  but  throughout  the  world  'tis  so, 
Yet  all  men  mourn  it ;  why,  I  do  not  know. 


THE   HUMAN  FACE. 


The  human  face  !  clear  index  of  the  mind  ! 
Harp  of  the  soul,  where  each  soft  stirring  wind 
Sprung  fresh  from  thought,  Eolian  in  play, 
Gleams  o'er  the  features,  a  prismatic  ray 
Of  life,  and  change,  and  beauty,  on  each  line, 
When  touched  aright  we  plainly  trace  "  Divine." 

Let  morbid  Passion,  that  concentered  Ate, 
Chafe  her  fierce  minions  through  their  prison  grate, 
We  mark  the  change,  and  Fancy  peering  in 
Beholds  the  scene  and  hears  the  fearful  din ; 
Each  growls,  or  roars,  or  vents  his  pent-up  spleen 
In  rending  bars  or  glaring  from  between 

Hatred,  a  crouching  tiger  in  his  lair  ! 
Vice,  cruel  more,  but  timid  as  a  hare  ! 

D  (57) 


58  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Envy,  a  sneaking,  whining,  craven  lynx ! 
And  Jealousy,  a  monstrous  fabled  sphinx  ! 
Important,  strutting  Vanity,  and  Pride, 
A  peacock  and  his  shadow  side  by  side  ; 
A  frightened  lamb  is  trembling,  shrinking  Fear, 
But  when  at  bay  a  wounded,  hostile  deer ! 
There,  too,  aloof,  the  gladiator  Love, 
Brave  as  a  lion  gentle  as  a  dove  ! 

All  these,  and  more,  within  the  bosom  dwell, 

And  subdivide  the  heart  in  many  a  cell, 

Wherein  they  lie  inactive,  till  the  flay 

Of  fit  occasion  calls  them  into  play ; 

When,  as  their  substance  moves  within,  we  trace 

Their  subtle  shadows  flitting  o'er  the  face. 

The  rigid  lip,  pale  and  transfixed  with  rage, 
Or  scornful  twitching,  as  with  palsied  age, 
Or  smiling  sensuous  in  carnation  hue, 
Sweet  as  the  honeysuckle  gemmed  with  dew  ; 


THE  HUMAN  FACE.  59 

Or  cold  and  cruel,  calmly  fixed  to  beat 
Sweet  Mercy,  weeping,  from  the  judgment -seat ; 
Or  curled  contemptuous,  scorning  to  reply 
By  other  means,  to  Baseness,  passing  by. 

The  gleaming  eyes,  that  scorn  to  brook  control ! 

Those  bright,  reflecting  windows  of  the  soul 

That  outward  beauty  to  the  mind  convey, 

And  backward  flash  the  intellectual  ray 

Of  quick  vivacity  ;  which  speak  a  thought 

Of  finer  texture  than  e'er  language  wrought ; 

Defying  Babel,  bounded  by  no  zone, 

Theii  terms  throughout  the  universe  are  known. 

Now  downward  cast  beneath  the  drooping  lid, 

Their  luster  by  the  sweeping  lashes  hid, 

As  when  the  maiden  hears  her  lover's  vow, 

And  can  not  find  her  voice  to  answer  how 

It  is  received;  but  the  truth  -  speaking  eye 

Is  never  at  a  loss  to  make  reply. 

Melting  in  love,  and  cold  and  fierce  in  hate, 


60  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Iii  pain  blank,  stony,  as  the  ways  of  fate  ; 
Now  Avild,  now  listless,  when  the  judgment's  flown, 
Or  Reason  tumbles  headlong  from  her  throne, 
Or  when  Affection's  parting  moment  nears, 
Gleaming  in  sorrow  through  a  flood  of  tears. 

The  scowling  brow,  firm  jaw,  and  changeful  cheek, 

Are  but  the  signs  by  which  the  passions  speak 

In  rigid  terms  for  good,  or  yet  for  ill, 

The  fixed  purpose  of  a  ruling  will ; 

A  child  might  read  that  nothing  could  involve 

Or  turn  aside  that  look  of  firm  resolve. 

By  thought,  or  will,  or  passion,  thus  addressed, 

Thus  speaks  the  face  ;  and  when  it  is  at  rest 

It  tells  a  story  of  another  kind. 

As  yet,  it  has  but  spoken  of  the  mind  : 

Now  look  again,  how  plainly  you  may  see 

If  health  be  there,  if  life's  economy 

Be  running  smoothly  on  without  a  jar, 


THE  HUMAN  FACE.  61 

Without  an  ache,  or  twinge  of  pain,  to  mar 

The  perfect  working  of  the  great  machine  ; 

No  grain  of  fell  disease  swedged  in  between 

Its  fitting  parts  ;  no  scrofula,  to  log 

Life's  crimson  stream  ;  no  pestilential  clog 

To  choke  its  valves ;  no  springs  of  poison  swell 

On  joint  or  tissue,  flooding  ev'ry  cell. 

But  from  life's  seat  her  fibrous  engine  speeds 

The  living  current  through  arterial  leads, 

With  strength  and  power  the  furthest  pulse  to 

mount, 

Returning  pure  to  its  perpetual  fount ; 
Then,  then,  behold  upon  the  face  arrayed 
The  lasting  charms  of  perfect  health  portrayed  ! 


NOVEMBER. 


The  chill  November  winds  are  surging,  moaning, 

sighing; 

The  latest  songster  to  a*sunnier  clime  has  fled  ; 
The  brown,  sere  leaves  upon  the  troubled  blast  are 

flying  ; 
The  leaden  sky  looks  drear  and  gloomy  overhead. 

All  nature  seems  to  be  approaching  dissolution  . 
The  red-faced  sun  glows  like  a  ball  of  molten  fire  ; 
As  if  to  wreak  some  strange  and  dreadful  retri 
bution, 
He  glares  upon  the  earth  a  look  of  vengeance  dire. 

The  harvest 's  gathered  and  the  summer  's  truly 

ended ; 
And  Autumn,  too,  is  nearing  now  the  further  shore 


NOVEMBER.  63 

Where  grizzly  Winter,  with  his  icy  hand  extended, 
Shall  help  her  from  Time's  scudding  sloop  for- 

evermore. 

I 

There  Spring  and  Summer  with  their  sister's  spirit 

meeting, 

Among  the  winged  shades  of  the  eternal  past, 
In  silence  re-unite,  in  calm  though  joyous  greeting, 
Myths  of  departed  time,  immutable  at  last. 


TO  A  FAVORITE  COUSIN. 


Dear  Pet :  Your  last  has  been  received, 
And  surely  I  shall  be  believed 
In  saying  what  I  now  shall  say. 
Old  Time  has  counted  many  a  day, 
And  many  a  week  has  slipt  away, 
Since  aught  has  come  to  please  me  better 
Than  the  receipt  of  your  dear  letter ; 
Because,  sweet  Cous.,  it  was  from  you, 
And  with  it  came  the  writer  too. 

It  seemed  as  if  four  circling  years 
Their  toils  and  pains,  joys,  smiles  and  tears, 
Had  been  annulled  with  all  their  train  ; 
We  two  were  face  to  face  again, 

As  when  we  talked  of  love,  and  lore, 

(64) 


TO  A   FAVORITE   COUSIN.  65 

And  beauty's  power,  and  wisdom's  store, 
In  those  fond,  cherished  days  of  yore. 
In  musing  o'er  those  hours  of  bliss, 
I  stole  (forgive  the  theft)  a  kiss 
From  these  fair  pictured  lips  of  thine, 
They  seemed  like  loadstone  unto  mine, 
And  drew  them  forward  with  more  power 
Than  Evil,  in  temptation's  hour, 
Lays  claim  to  Weakness  as  her  dower. 

"  What  do  I  think,"  you  wish  to  know ; 
"  Have  four  long  years'  diurnal  flow, 
Adown  time's  rugged  banks  away, 
Wrought  much  of  change  in  Cousin  May  ?" 
Dear  Cous.,  I  scarce  know  what  to  say ! 
There  is  a  change  !  but  to  explain 
Would  yield  me  less  of  joy  than  pain ; 
Yet  't  is  but  what  I  thought  to  see  — 
The  common  mutability 
Time  works  in  all  mortality. 


QQ  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

The  change  is  only  slight  in  thee. 

'T  is  but  as  April's  fairest  day 

Had  ripened  into  blooming  May ; 

But  still  it  hints  at  our  decay. 

We  first  mature  to  vigor's  bloom, 

Then  slowly  "  ripen  for  the  tomb." 

This  is  our  universal  doom  ! 

'T  is  stamped  upon  us  in  the  womb, — 

Wove  through  our  frames  in  Nature's  loom. 

But  this  scarce  answers  your  request ; 

'T  is  but  the  thoughts  it  did  suggest. 

A  trifle  thinner  than  you  were. 
More  beauteous  ?    No  !  but  lovelier  ; 
Fairer,  than  then  you  seemed  to  me, 
I  cannot  say,  it  could  not  be  ; 
My  eyes  were  not  so  formed  to  see ; 
I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart 
To  say  you  had  a  counterpart. 


TO  A    FAVORITE    COUSIN.  67 

But  time  has  added  one  sweet  grace, 
And  left  it  beaming  on  thy  face. 
'Tis  where  the  mind  has  left  its  trace 
In  characters  as  clear  as  day ; 
A  certain  that,  which  seems  to  say, 
"  God,  pity  poor  humanity  ; 

• 

Teach  them  to  know  themselves  and  Thee." 

"  Has  age  improved  me  ?  "  this  you  ask. 

To  answer  it  would  be  a  task 

Which  might  involve  a  deal  of  thought ; 

And  then,  when  answered,  be  as  naught. 

We  're  apt  to  think  as  we  are  taught, 

You  then  seemed  perfect  unto  me, — 

What  more  "  improvement "  could  there  be? 

I  can  say  this  much,  and  I  will, 

You  are  the  same  perfection  still. 

To  please  a  whim,  and  flatter  time, 

I  choose  to  tell  you  so  in  rhyme, 

And  hope  you  '11  think  it  no  great  crime, 


68  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

My  space  is  done,  sweet  Cous.,  and  I 
lust  for  the  present  say  "  Good  bye,' 
And  do  not  fail  to  write  anon 
To  yours,  as  ever, 

COUSIN  JOHN. 


ACROSTIC. 

To  Julia,  on  receiving  her  Picture.    March,  1871. 


Oh,  haste  thee  from  the  shades,  my  truant  Muse ! 
I  crave  thy  aid,  nor  thou  the  boon  refuse  ; 
But  guide  my  hand  to  trace  in  numbers  rude 
Some  wordy  semblance  of  my  gratitude. 


Julia !  the  rose  is  fair !  the  lily  too, 
Under  the  morning  sun,  when  gemmed  with  dew, 
Looks  sweetly  beautiful,  divinely  true  ; 
Indeed,  all  flowers  seem  tokens  from  above, — 
All,  fragrant  emblems  of  undying  love. 

But,  Julia,  what  are  flowers  compared  to  thee  ! 
Rare  beauty,  virtue,  grace,  and  purity — 

All  these  combine  to  make  thee  such  as  Jove 

(69) 


70  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Yearning  for  lonely  man  might  bid  him  love  j 
Surely  that  lucky  wight  were  doubly  blest 
Having  beside  his  will,  great  Jove's  behest ; 
Although  there  might  be  that  would  make  him 

mourn, 
What  would  't  avail,  if  loved  not  in  return  ? 


NIGHT. 

Calm,  peaceful  Night !  indulgent  queen  of  rest ! 
Earth's  wearied  millions  slumber  on  thy  breast, 
And  'wake  invigorated  at  thy  close, 
Thankful  to  thee,  and  sleep,  for  sweet  repose. 

The  humble  toiler  on  life's  weary  way 
Hails  thy  approach  to  close  the  drudging  day ; 
And  still  hopes  on  that  thou  mayest  yet  return, 
The  glad  forerunner  of  a  happier  morn. 

The  love  -  lorn  maiden  sighs  the  live  -  long  day, 
And,  yearning  for  the  dear  one  far  away, 
Finds  comfort  but  with  thee  ;  then  in  a  dream 
She  floats  enraptured  down  time's  tranquil  stream ; 
The  loved  one  by  her  side  is  seated  now, 


72  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Again  they  pledge  the  oft-repeated  vow  ; 
Such  joy  is  hers,  such  bliss  as  may  not  be 
Half  equaled  by  the  plain  reality. 

When  warring  hosts  contend  in  bloody  fight, 
Pale  Mercy  shudders  at  the  sick'ning  sight, 
And  fiends  exult,  while  sorrowing  angels  weep  ; 
Reason  is  dead !  Philanthropy  's  asleep  ! 
Hate  reigns  supreme  !   man  stains  his  hand 
In  the  life  -  current  of  his  fellow  -  man  ! 
O  fearful  carnage  !  list,  the  horrid  din  ! 
The  assembled  powers  of  tyranny  and  sin, 
Misrule  and  avarice,  here  all  convene 
To  conjure  up  the  woe  -  inspiring  scene  ; 
While  Want  and  Pestilence  look  on  amain, 
And  Death  keeps  tally  for   the  bloody  game. 

Then  welcome,  0  twice  -  doubly  welcome,  Night ! 
Welcome  thy  shades  to  stay  the  stubborn  fight, 
Whose  terrors  end  not  on  the  gory  plain, 


NIGHT.  73 

But  spreads  like  wild -fire  o'er  the  wide  domain. 

The  mockery  of  glory  rides  the  air, 

Thick  with  the  breath  of  anguish  and  despair ; 

For  every  pang  there  falls  a  distant  tear, 

And  hearts  will  break  for  those  who  perish  here. 

Children  shall  wait  in  vain  their  sire's  return, 

And  many  a  maiden's  cheek  will  blanch  to  learn 

That  whom  she  thought  the  acme  of  true  worth 

Now  lies  a  senseless  clod  of  lifeless  earth. 

The  agonizing  gasp,  the  dying  groan, 

Prelude  the  orphan's  sob  and  widow's  moan. 

These  are  thy  trophies,  most  insatiate  war, 
And  these  the  victims  of  thy  rumbling  car. 
Behold  them,  Night !  O  heed  the  world's  distress, 
And  grant  thy  boon  of  sweet  forgetfulness. 


WHAT  IS  WEALTH? 


Oh,  what  is  wealth !  or  what  is  influence  ! 
I  ask  you,  mortals,  will  these  recompense 
A  life  of  ceaseless  toil  and  constant  care  ? 
If  life  has  scarce  a  little  hour  to  spare, 
But  must  be  dedicated  to  the  "  yellow  god," 
Better  to  sink  at  once  beneath  the  sod. 

Look  on  the  face  of  nature  !  all  things  there 
In  common  thrive,  when  left  to  common  care. 
Each  tree  and  shrub,  e'en  animated  life, 
Is  guiltless  of  that  avaricious  strife 
Which  so  belittles  man  ;  he  wants  too  much. 
If  he  would  but  contented  be  with  such 
As  Mother  Earth  would  kindly  furnish  all, 
Life  might  be  freed  from  much  that  now  is  gall. 


74 


WHAT  IS    WEALTH?  75 

Man  then  were  kept  from  Fashion's  crimson  shrine  ; 
Twelve  hours  each  day  in  the  dark  noisome  mine 
Were  then  unknown.     The  lowly  slave  for  bread, 
The  pampered  rich  in  luxury  are  fed. 
Unhappy  both  !     Why  not  adopt  the  means  ? 
Avoiding  those  unnatural  extremes, 
The  giddy  heights  of  affluent  misery, 
The  groveling  depths  of  wretched  penury. 


REPLY   TO   *   * 


If  "  'twixt  two  stools  I  tumble  to  the  ground," 
What  matters,  if  my  level  there  be  found. 
Might  this  not  be  a  hint  that  I  should  toil 
Like  cursed  Cain,  a  tiller  of  the  soil  ? 
Yet  proud  the  calling  ;  he  who  earns  his  bread 
Direct  from  earth,  may  bear  erect  his  head. 

I  've  lain  aside  the  hammer,  plane  and  saw, 
And  for  a  season  grapple  with  the  law ; 
Tiring  of  this,  or  striving  but  in  vain, 
Mayhap  I  shall  assume  the  plow  again  ; 
Or,  like  the  wandering  shade  of  Discontent, 
Turn  once  again  toward  the  Occident  , 
Again  on  far  Sierra's  slopes  appear, 
The  bold,  the  free,  the  careless  mountaineer. 


REPLY   TO  *     *  77 

If  only  inclination  were  obeyed, 
I  'd  dabble  in  the  stuff  whence  dreams  are  made, 
And  add  a  victim  to  the  rhyming  trade. 
Survey  the  list,  and  ponder  undismayed  ! 
Behold  the  scroll  of  names  of  those  who  wrought, 
And  wrote,  and  starved  for  fame  too  dearly  bought ; 
And  often  ere  the  purchase  was  complete, 
Death  plucked  them  heedless  from  the  envied  seat. 

Unroll !  behold  our  Willis  and  our  Poe 

Among  the  latest  on  the  famous  row ; 

Then  further  down,  Hogg,  Coleridge  and  Burns, 

(Feasted  and  flattered,  slighted,  starved,  by  turns,) 

And  hundreds  more  whose  names  are  not  unknown 

Ingratitude  hath  singled  for  her  own : 

Dim  with  the  breath  of  ages,  through  time's  mist, 

Gleams  Homer's  name,  the  first  upon  the  list. 

"  Now  seven  cities  claim  the  Homer  dead 
Through   which    the   living   Homer    begged   his 
bread." 


78  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

The  grand  old  bard,  the  patriarch  of  song, 
Thus  craved  a  pittance  from  the  vulgar  throng ; 
Thus  lived  the  hero  of  the  epic  page, 
And  died  the  boast  of  each  succeeding  age. 

The  sport  of  circumstance,  the  tool  of  thought, 

Strong,  but  too  varied,  often  comes  to  naught, 

But  tosses  guideless  on  the  sea  of  time, 

A  random  shallop  from  an  unknown  clime  : 

No  anchor  dragging  in  the  oozy  sand  ; 

No  helm  directs  to  any  special  land  ; 

But  only  drifting  zigzag,  onward  borne 

To  that  dim  shore  from  which  none  e'er  return. 


THE   MORNING  WALK. 


My  heart  feels  glad  !  my  soul  expands 
With  joyful  thoughts,  all  sorrow  scorning. 
Then  farewell  Care  !  here  let  us  part ; 
I  '11  turn  thee  homeless  from  my  heart 
This  bright  May  morning. 

The  balmy  air  is  fresh  and  sweet ; 
The  dewdrops  to  the  grass  are  clinging ; 
The  blushing  morn  is  bright  and  clear, 
Her  lord,  the  King  of  Day,  is  near ; 
The  birds  are  singing. 

The  bonnie  Thrush,  perched  on  a  twig, 
His  blithest,  sweetest  notes  caroling ; 

7? 


80  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Now  low  his  song,  and  now  elate, 
As  though  to  cheer  his  silent  mate, 
Her  heart  consoling. 

The  modest  Robin  greets  the  dawn ; 
His  breast  the  purple  east  outvying : 
He  may  not  peer  the  thrush  in  song, 
The  breezes  bear  his  strain  along, 

"  There  's  naught  like  trying." 

Down  by  the  brooklet's  willowy  brink 
The  babbling  Bob-o'-link  is  flinging 
His  crazy,  joyous  notes  along, 
Borne  on  a  fluttering  flood  of  song, 
Still  madly  singing. 

Who  could  feel  lonely,  sad  or  drear, 
While  in  his  ear  sweet  sounds  are  chiming? 
While  Nature  wears  a  look  of  cheer, 
And  Sol's  broad  disk  just  'gins  to  'pear, 
Slow  upward  climbing. 


BIRDS  OF  SPRING. 


Sing  on  ye  warblers  !  sweetly  sing  ; 
I  love  to  hear  your  joyous  notes, 
And  see  you  flit  on  gladsome  wing 
As  lightly  as  the  perfume  floats 
From  off  the  scented  rose. 

Ye  seem  forever  glad  and  gay, 
And  happy  always  and  content ; 
From  blushing  morn  till  close  of  day 
Your  tide  of  joy  is  never  spent, 
But  ever  blithesome  flows. 

Ye  merry  songsters,  tell  me  this  — 
'T  is  all  a  weary  heart  might  ask  — 

6  (8 1) 


FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Whence  is  the  source  of  all  your  bliss  ? 
The  power  that  bids  you  ever  bask 
In  joyous  tuneful  mood  ? 

Or  is  it  only  lack  of  care, 

Or  the  sweet  task,  all  self-imposed, 

Of  ev'ry  chirping,  twit'ring  pair, 

To  build  their  nests  by  twigs  inclosed, 

And  rear  their  darling  brood  ? 

The  answer  comes  —  a  thrilling  strain - 
"  Our  very  nature  is  to  sing, 
And  warble  for  the  vernal  train  ; 
We  are  the  choristers  of  Spring !" 


BEAUTIFUL  DEWDROPS. 


Beautiful  dewdrops  ! 

Ye  cling  to  the  grass-tops 

As  clear  and  bright 

As  beads  of  light. 
Witching  bewilderment  of  sight ! 
O  sweet  enchanting  scene  ! 
Beneath  the  pale  reflecting  moon 
The  meadows  seem  with  diamonds  strewn , 
Refulgent  'neath  night's  dreamy  noon 
Ye  cast  your  glittering  sheen. 

The  earth  seems  wrapped  in  silent  sleep, 

Her  myriad  viewless  elfins  weep, 

And  these  their  tears  that  downward  creep 

Along  the  drooping  grass  ; 

83 


FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

A  sea  of  crystallated  lens' ! 

Like  fireflies  glimmering  o'er  the  fens, 

The  shimmering  moonbeam  backward  bends 

From  drops  of  liquid  glass. 


Pure,  priceless  jewels  of  the  night ! 
Whether  pale  Luna's  silvery  light, 
Like  tiny  meteors  in  flight, 
Flash  from  your  beaming  face, 
Or  whether,  lingering  into  day, 
The  sun's  first  glancing  golden  ray 
Flies  from  your  cheeks  like  gilded  spray, 
And  adds  a  richer  grace, — 

Ye  are  the  loveliest  gems  of  earth  . 

For  beauty,  purity,  and  worth 

All  contribute  to  give  you  birth  ; 

And  charming  while  you  stay, 

All  nature  greets  you  as  a  friend, 

While  blooming  flowers  their  leaves  extend, 


BEAUTIFUL    DEWDROPS.  85 

And  meeting  thus,  your  beauties  blend 
As  fair  as  rosy  May. 

The  morning-glory,  opening  wide 
Her  bell-shaped  petal,  woos  inside, 
Your  glistening  pearls,  that  you  may  hide 
Screened  from  the  heat  of  day  ; 
There,  folded  fondly  to  her  breast, 
Abode  of  purity  and  rest, 
Absorbed  in  beauty,  and  caressed, 
Ye  sweetly  pass  away. 


THE   SUMMER'S  EVE. 


The  summer  sun  sinks  slowly  to  his  rest , 
His  golden  smile  still  lingers  in  the  West ; 
Now  forms  a  halo  of  prismatic  light, — 
A  flush  upon  the  brow  of  coming  night. 

List'  now,  the  bells  of  homeward-winding  herds, 
The  cow-boy's  song,  the  chant  of  evening  birds, 
The  nighthawk's  downward  plunge  and  startling 

roar, 
As  skyward  back  he  turns  again  to  soar. 

Now  melts  the  twilight  into  deeper  shade, 
And  myriad  frogs  commence  their  serenade 
Of  varied  tone,  from  high  to  heavy  notes, 
From  piping  gills  and  deep  sonorous  throats. 


THE  SUMMERS  EVE.  87 

Now  chirps  the  cricket,  in  some  crevice  hid ; 
Now  twangs  her  harp  the  modest  katydid  ; 
Now  buzzing  beetles  hum  their  crazy  rounds, 
And  make  the  air  a  din  of  flying  sounds. 

The  Lilliputian  lightnings  flashing  bright 
From  firefly  clouds,  illuminate  the  night ; 
Winged  drops  of  phosphorus,  they  shine  and  blaze, 
Till  meadows  seem  a  pyrotechnic  haze 

Of  glowing  moths  in  labyrinthine  maze, 
All  scintillating  'neath  the  steady  gaze  : 
Like  flakes  of  fire,  they  float  so  light  and  crisp, 
Ten  million  Wills,  with  each  his  little  wisp. 


KITTY. 


Fair  daughter  of  our  kindly  host, 
My  fondest  wish  shall  ever  be 
That  he  on  earth  who  loves  thee  most, 
Shall  dearest  be  to  thee. 

For  beauty  dwells  upon  thy  cheek, 
And  looks  out  from  thy  beaming  eyes  ; 
Sure,  he  who  wins  thee  still  may  speak 
Of  earthly  Paradise. 

Bright  hopes  be  thine,  and  be  fulfilled, 
And  happiness  from  love  distilled  ; 
And  aught  beside  thou  could'st  have  willed 
Be  thine  thy  latest  day. 


KITTY.  .  89 

Then  lying  sweetly  down  to  rest, 
Thy  crowning  hope  of  all  be  blest, 
And  Heaven  receive  thee  as  a  guest. 

Thine  truly, 

JOHN  B.  KAYE. 


WILLIAM  AND  WINNIE. 


William  Wallace  went  a-courting 

On  a  summer's  day  ; 
Found  the  witching  Winnie  Werner 

Working  in  the  hay. 

Watched  her  weave  the  winding  windrow 

With  her  wooden  rake  ; 
Said,  "  Could  I  but  woo  and  win  her 

For  her  own  sweet  sake  — 

"  Happy  would  I  be  as  sunshine, 

Richer  than  a  Jew, 
Wed  to  winsome  Winnie  Werner, 

Fresh  as  morning  dew." 

qo 


WILLIAM  AND    WINNIE.  91 

Then  he  kept  aloof  to  mark  her, 

Noting  all  her  charms, — 
"  Lips  so  red,  and  cheeks  so  rosy, 

Perfect  moulded  arms, 

"  Brow  as  fair  as  alabaster ! 

Teeth  as  white  as  snow  ; 
Roguish  eyes  that  dance  and  sparkle, 

Blacker  than  the  sloe  ; 

"  Lithe  in  form  as  any  willow  ; 

Grace  and  beauty  rare  , 
Dainty  feet,  and  flowing  ringlets ; 

Altogether  fair  !" 

Thus  he  gave  the  final  verdict, 

Summing  up  aloud ; 
Winnie  heard,  and,  looking,  saw  him, 

Then  she  smiling  bowed. 


92  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Said,  "  Good  morrow,  Mr.  Wallace ! 

Very  pleasant  day ! 
Better  get  a  rake,  and  help  me 

Gather  up  this  hay. 

"  Papa's  hired  man  has  left  him, 

And  he  's  all  alone  ; 
So  I  asked  him  let  me  help  to 

Rake  up  what  was  mown ; 

"  And  you  've  heard  it  oft  repeated, 
'  Make  hay  while  the  sun 

Shines ; '  so  get  a  rake  and  help  me 
Till  we  have  this  done." 

William,  willing,  went  to  help  her 

Finish  up  the  task  ; 
Then  he  smiling  said  unto  her, 

"  Winnie,  let  me  ask 


WILLIAM  AND    WINNIE.  93 

"  Is  there  nothing  else  you  think  of 

I  can  help  you  do  ? 
For  it  only  seems  a  pleasure 

Thus  to  work  for  you. 

"Let  me  labor  for  you  ever, 

All  the  way  through  life  ; 
And  discharge  me,  Winnie,  never : 

Be  my  darling  wife. 

"  Let  this  hay -day  be  my  pay-day, 

While  we  both  shall  live  ; 
Your  hand  and  heart,  both  in  advance, 

Is  all  you  need  to  give." 

Winnie,  blushing,  murmured  something ; 

What,  I  will  not  say : 
But  as  they  were  shortly  married, 

Think  you  it  was  "  nay  "  ? 


MY  DESTINY'S  STAR. 


Dark  and  drear  is  the  night ! 

But  my  heart  is  as  light 
As  the  ruffles  of  Aurora's  bar ; 

For  my  steed  knows  the  road 

Oft  before  he  has  trode, 
And  a  "  light  in  the  window  V  my  star. 

Across  meadow  and  field, 

Now  bereft  of  their  yield, 
I  can  see  it  now  gleaming  afar, 

For  it  cleaves  the  dark  night 

Like  a  meteor  bright, 
And  I  feel  't  is  my  destiny's  star. 


MY  DESTINY'S  STAR.  95 

The  wrecked  mariner  tost, 

When  his  compass  is  lost, 
And  his  vessel  is  straining  each  spar, 

Turns  his  keen,  anxious  eye 

T'ward  the  cloud  -  covered  sky, 
He  is  looking,  in  vain,  for  his  star. 

But  this  beacon  of  mine 

Ne'er  refuses  to  shine, 
Howsever  the  elements  war. 

The  fair  keeper  is  there, 

And  her  unceasing  care 
Still  keeps  fed  the  bright  flame  of  my  star. 

Be 't  for  better  or  worse, 

Prove  't  a  blessing  or  curse, 
To  my  happiness  make,  or  to  mar, 

Yet  still  on  to  the  end, 

My  course  never  shall  bend, 
I  will  follow  my  destiny's  star. 


ACROSTIC.* 


Along  the  pale,  dim  vista  of  the  past, 
Now  strewn  with  wrecks  of  early  hopes  and  joys, 
Nomadic  Memoiy's  yearning  glance  is  cast 
Among  the  ruins  of  her  cherished  toys. 

Blessed  be  Memory's  reviving  power ! 
Attachments,  friendships,  are  lived  o'er  again, 
Keeping  life's  jewels  all  within  the  hour. 
Even  this,  dear  lady,  be  my  wish  for  thee, — 
"  Remembrance  sweet  be  with  thee  constantly." 

*  Written  on  request  of  a  lady  friend. 
96 


TO  A  YOUNG  LADY  KNITTING  A  TIDY. 


See  how  her  taper  fingers  fly, 

And  weave  the  thread  in  shapes  exquisite ; 

And,  as  the  fabric  meets  the  eye, 

One  cannot  help  exclaim,  "  What  is  it  ?" 

So  delicate  in  every  part, 

So  like  the  web  of  some  great  spider, 

Or  like  some "  Bless  your  silly  heart, 

'Tis  what  we  ladies  call  a  '  tidy.'  ' 

A  "  tidy'1''  eh  !  untidy  name 
For  such  a  maze  of  loops  and  meshes  ! 
Like  frost  -  work  on  a  window  pane, 
Urns,  labyrinthine  scrolls,  and  dashes 
Are  traced  along  with  nicest  skill, 
In  lines  where  native  beauty  lingers. 


'98  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Here  art 's  a  servant  to  the  will, 
And  art  and  will  direct  thy  fingers. 

I  do  admire  the  work,  't  is  true  ! 

To  claim  my  praise,  few  things  are  fitter, 

Yet  one  of  those  few  things  are  you, 

The  black -eyed,  red -cheeked,  rougish  knitter; 

The  loveliest  work  of  all,  I  ween ; 

For  in  the  first,  when  God  made  Adam, 

That  good  man  liked  not  all  he  'd  seen, 

One  half  as  well  as  Eve,  his  madam. 


LOVE. 


O  Love  !  thou  only  joy  of  life ! 
Sweet  haven  of  time  s  troubled  sea ! 
What  balm  in  all  this  world  of  strife, 
Save  only  thee  ? 

Without  thee,  Hope  had  naught  to  give, 
And  Memory  naught  on  which  to  dwell ; 
Without  thee  who  would  care  to  live 
And  say  farewell. 

Farewell  to  every  kindly  glow 
That  warms  or  cheers  the  troubled  heart ! 
Farewell  to  happiness  below, 
And  peace,  depart ! 

99 


100  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Farewell  to  all  of  good,  indeed ! 
With  nothing  left  but  care,  and  pain, 
And  wretchedness,  and  hungry  greed, 
And  lust  of  gain. 

I  would  not  longer  care  to  stay, 
E'en  where  Potosi's  glittering  store 
Heaped  at  my  feet,  should  Mammon  say, 
"  Love  thou  no  more  !" 

Of  all  the  scenes  my  life  has  known, 
But  few  I  would  live  o'er  again, 
And  those  are  they  where  Love  alone 
Would  say  "  Amen.'' 


THE  IRISH  EMIGRANT'S   FAREWELL. 


The  ship  in  the  offing  is  ready  for  sailing, 
O'er  the  stormy  Atlantic  to  bear  me  away 
From  the  home  of  my  fathers ;  my  own  beloved 

Erin, 
Farewell !  I  shall  see  thee  no  more  from  to-day. 

Farewell  to  the  little  thatched  cot  I  was  born  in, 
The  cot  where  my  father  and  mother  both  died, 
And  I,  a  poor  orphan,  was  left  sad  to  mourn  in, 
With  no  one  of  kin  in  the  wide  world  beside. 

O,  a  silent  farewell  to  the  graves  of  my  kindred  ! 
Green  mounds  with  the  beautiful  shamrock  grown 
o'er ; 


FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

My  poor,  darling  mother,  how  sadly  't  would  grieve 

her, 
Could  she  know  I  was  leaving  Old  Erin's  green 

shore. 

Farewell,  my  sweet  Nora  !  I  'm  sure  old  Killdoree 
A  fairer,  and  truer  maid  never  has  known ; 
Unless  fortune  deceive  me,  I  know  you  '11  believe 

ie, 
I  soon  will  send  for  you,  to  make  you  my  own. 

O,  what  is  the  curse  that  has  fallen  on  Erin  ? 
For  her  soil  is  a  home  for  her  children  no  more : 
Like  exiles  they  wander,  the  wide  world  all  over, 
And  yet  the  Green  Isle  is  the  land  they  adore. 

It  is  Anarchy's  reign  that  has  driven  them  from  her, 
And  made  them  feel  strange  in  the  land  of  their 

birth  ; 

The  tide  of  misrule  has  arisen  upon  her, 
And  sent  them  adrift  o'er  the  face  of  the  earth. 


THE   HERMIT'S  LAMENT. 


I  am  weary  and  tired,  all  the  world  seems  so  dark, 

And  there  's  nothing  oil  earth  that  I  care  to  re 
mark  ; 

Though  once  I  loved  knowledge,  and  delved  in 
her  mine 

After  bright  gems  of  truth  and  great  proverbs, 
that  shine 

With  the  lustre  of  wisdom,  yet  what  have  I 
learned  ? 

That  by  sweat  of  man's,  \>row-  is,  his  sustenance, 
earned  ! 

That  near  all  men  are  selfish  and  work  but  for  pay ! 

That  most  friendships  fall  back  in  adversity's  day ! 

That  the  few  that  are  true  death  takes  soonest 
away ! 

That  the  research  of  man,  the  extent  that  it  goes, 


104  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Serves  only  to  teach  him  how  little  he  knows  ! 
That  the  deep  sleep  of  death  is  his  hope  for  re 
pose ! 

That  there  comes  scarce  a  hope,  or  a  moment  of  joy, 
But  doubt  and  conjecture  must  cast  some  alloy 
In  the  mint  of  the  mind,  thus  to  harden  each 

thought 

To  the  wear  of  the  world  in  adversity  wrought ! 
That  of  men,  nine  in  ten,  I  will  lay,  as  a  rule 
Will  cringe,  duck,  and  scrape  to  the  bond-holding 
fool! 

'T  is  hence  I  am  sad,  and  dejected,  and  changed  ! 
'T  is  hence  all  the  things  I  once  loved  are  estranged ! 
'T  is  hence  all  my  faith  in  humanity 's  gone  ! 
'T  is  hence  in  my  cave  that  I  live  all  alone ! 
Here  let  me  live  on  till  the  end  of  my  days, 
Far  away  from  society 's  blame  or  her  praise, 
And  when  as  a  house,  I  have  done  with  my  cave, 
Let  no  one  intrude,  it  will  serve  for  a  grave, 


THE   OLD  YEAR. 

JAN.  1,  1872. 


The  clock  strikes  twelve  !     The  passing  year 
Silent  recedes  from  off  time's  stage  ! 
Thou  grave  of  hope  !  thou  ghost  of  fear ! 
Thou  vehicle  of  many  a  tear ! 
Thou,  too,  art  lain  upon  the  bier 
And  borne  away. 


What  changes  have  thy  seasons  brought 
What  lessons  unto  youth  and  age 
Has  thy  administration  taught ! 
What  havoc,  what  destruction  wrought 
What  bloody  battles  have  been  fought 
Whilst  thou  held  sway. 


106  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

What  windings  in  the  path  of  fate 
Thy  brief  career  hath  brought  to  view  ! 
What  homes  were  rendered  desolate ! 
What  rulers  sank  beneath  the  weight 
Of  an  abused,  misgoverned  state, 
What  need  to  tell. 

Sure  some  have  watched  thee  out  to-night, 
And  seen  thy  place  filled  by  the  new, 
Whate'er  befall,  whate'er  betide, 
Whate'er  may  in  the  future  bide, 
Will  scarcely  wish  thee  aught  beside 
A  long  farewell. 


CHICAGO  IN  ASHES.* 


Queen  City  of  the  proud  imperial  West ! 
City  that  was,  but  is  not !  thou  hast  sunk 
As  thou  hadst  risen  !     Greatness  is  a  guest 
Will  ne'er  forsake  thee.    Even  now,  when  shrunk 
By  the  dread  sea  of  fire  which  whelmed  thee  o'er, 
Like  the  mad  maelstrom,  in  its  lurid  spray — 
A  flood  of  flame  whose  deep,  unearthly  roar 
Shall  haunt  thy  people's  hearts  their  latest  day — 
Still  art  thou  great.     The  desolated  plain 
Where  late  stood  princely  marts  and  gilded  halls, 
The  fox  and  badger  might  resume  again, 
And  swallows  build  among  thy  crumbled  walls. 

Unequaled  in  thy  rise,  and  in  thy  fall 
Outvying  Moscow !     Yet  no  Bonaparte, 


October  11,  1871. 
107 


108  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

With  famished  legions,  threatens  to  appal 
With  deeper  gloom  the  mourning  public  heart. 
Thy  stately  fabrics  faded  into  smoke  ! 
Great  convocation  of  triumphant  art 
Dispersed  like  chaff  before  the  whirlwind's  stroke ; 
While  Ruin  reigned  supreme  in  every  part. 
Sad  desolation  !  church,  and  court,  and  home 
Mingling  promiscuous  in  grim  decay. 
Dilapidation  of  our  modern  Rome  ! 
The  mighty  ruins  of  a  little  day  ; 
But  such  a  day !  what  woe,  and  grief,  and  tears, 
Despair,  and  death,  and  ruin,  and  their  train, 
With  all  the  evils  of  a  hundred  years 
Concentered  in  this  space  of  dread  and  pain. 
Mothers  and  children,  husbands,  daughters,  wives, 
Fled  terror-stricken,  as  the  tongued  flames 
Lapped  up  their  homes ;    fled   only  with   their 

lives. 

Whither,  they  knew  not !  and  the  ready  names 
Of  the  dear  missing  ones  were  called  aloud, 


CHICAGO  IN  ASHES.  109 

But  died  to  wliispers  in  the  mournful  din 
Of  cries  and  lamentations  from  the  crowd  : 
Security  was  all  they  sought  to  win. 

Far-famed  metropolis  of  the  Occident ! 
What  fate  has  overtaken  thee  and  thine 
Is  sad  to  contemplate  ;  words  are  no  vent : 
There  should  be  grief  and  sorrow  in  each  line 
To  trace  the  feelings  of  the  thrilling  heart 
While  musing  on  the  scenes  which  greet  the  eye 
Along  thy  smould'ring  thoroughfares ;  a  part 
No  arbitrary  signs  or  sounds  supply. 

Thy  beggared  poor  bewail  the  ruthless  stroke 
Which  left  them  houseless,  homeless  refugees  ! 
Thy  merchant   princes — trade's   true    hearts  of 

oak — 

Are  princely  beggars  !  yet  they  stem  the  seas 
Of  their  misfortune,  with  that  fortitude, 
Born  of  high  hope  and  lofty  enterprise, 


HO  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

With  which  thy  sons  have  ever  been  imbued. 
And  thou,  and  they,  like  Phoenix,  shall  arise 
Till  all  thy  former  grandeur  is  surpassed, 
And  thou  again  be  'mong  the  foremost  clashed. 


THE  DRUMMER-BOY'S   FATE. 


Just  before  the  great  fight  on  the  plains  of  Ma- 

rengo, 

While  Bonaparte's  glory  was  still  in  full  blast, 
McDonald  was  hastening  forward  to  join  him, 
Marching  over  the  Alps  by  the  great  Splugen  Pass 

While  along  a  steep  ledge  the  tired  soldiers  were 

toiling, 

Breaking  loose  from  above  them,  a  volume  of  snow 
Came  glancing  down  on  them,  and  catching  a 

drummer  -  boy, 
Bore  him  down  in  its  course  to  the  gorge  far  below. 

Shocked  and  dumb  were  the  troops  at  the  fate  of 
their  comrade ; 


FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

For  dead  they  supposed   him,  and  mangled  and 

torn ; 
When  hark!   from  the  deep  snowy  gorge  there 

came  welling 
The  long -roll  and  tattoo  in  air  upward  borne. 

Stout,  faithful  young  heart !  't  was  the  call  of  a 

soldier, 
And  if  soldiers  could  aid  him  he  knew  help  would 

come, 
When  they  thought  of  their  comrade  in  many  a 

battle, 
And  heard  the  wild  notes  of  his  soul-stirring  drum. 

Brave  hearts  yearned  with  pity,  but  help  could 

not  reach  him, 
And  the  stern  haste  of  war  to  find  means  could 

not  wait ; 

And  while  his  reveille  made  echo  the  glaciers, 
They  left  the  brave  drummer -boy  to  his  sad  fate. 


THE  DRUMMER-BOY'S  FATE.  H3 

Exhausted  and  chilled  still  he  kept  up  a  rat -tat, 
Though  his  heart  'gan  to  sink  and  his  fingers  were 

numb ; 

Still  he  sent  in  appeal,  to  the  troops  far  above  him, 
The  fluttering  notes  of  his  faithful  snare -drum. 

Then  he  sank  in  the  snow  and  a  film  crossed  his 

vision, 

And  death  stole  upon  him — a  dull,  sleepy  trance ; 
His  drum  it  was  silent,  his  heart  too  was  muffled, 
And  soon  ceased  to  beat  for  the  glory  of  France. 


IN  THE  DEEP,  TANGLED   FOREST. 


In  the  deep,  tangled  forest  I  roamed  when  a  boy, 
Absorbed  and  enchanted  by  solitude's  spell, 

Till  I  grew  a  young  hermit,  and  found  sweetest  joy 
Where  Nature  untrammeled  primeval  did  dwell. 

The  shy  woodland  denizens  all  seemed  my  friends, 
And  with  cautious  timidity  oft  would  draw  near, 

Urged  on  by  the  power  curiosity  lends, 
In  confidence  partly,  and  partly  in  fear. 

The  "coo"  of  the  pigeon,  the  mourning -dove's 

note, 

Were  sounds  that  delighted  my  too-pensive  ear ; 
And  the  pheasant's  wild  tattoo,  loud  beaten  by  rote, 
To  the  song  of  the  thrush,  full  of  music  and 
qheer. 


IN   THE  DEEP,   TANGLED  FOREST.        H5 

The  whispering  branches,  when  stirred  by  the 

breeze, 

Related  a  story  addressed  to  my  soul ; 
And  autumn's  sere  leaves,  as  they  fell  from  the 

trees, 

Awakened  strange  feelings  I  scarce  could  con^ 
trol. 

'T  was  a  pleasure  to  climb  up  the  steep  jutting  cliff, 
And  stray  'long  the  smooth  pebbly  beach  of  the 

lake  ; 

To  launch  on  the  waters  the  miniature  skiff, 
Or  thread  the  wild  maze  of  the  vine -tangled 
brake. 

Once  I  watched  far  above  me  the  proud  eagle  soar, 
In  the  blue  cloudless  heavens,  a  speck  black  as 
night ; 

While  a  craving  came  o'er  me  I  ne'er  felt  before, 
And  I  envied  the  monarch  his  powers  of  flight. 


THE   IRISH    EMIGRANT'S  DYING  FARE 
WELL  TO   HIS   LOVE. 


'T  is  a  long  time  now  since  I  left  thee,  dear  Annie, 
Yet  thy  memory  is  dear  to  my  mind 

As  thou  wert  when  stern  fortune  bereft  me,  sweet 

Annie, 
Of  one  aye  so  gentle  and  kind. 

Yet  was  hope  bright  and  strong  when  I  started, 

dear  Annie, 

And  it  said,  "  we  should  soon  meet  again  ; " 
And  you  smiled  through  your  tears  as  we  parted, 

my  Annie, 
And  bade  me  God  speed  o'er  the  main. 


116 


IRISH  EMIGRANT'S  DYING  FAREWELL. 

Then  our  ship  sped  away  o'er  the  wave,  dear  Annie, 
And  my  heart  swelled  with  hope  and  with  pride, 

As  I  thought  of  a  bright  future  day,  sweet  Annie, 
When,  returning,  I  'd  make  thee  my  bride. 

I  thought  of  the  wealth  I  should  earn,  dear  Annie, 

In  the  land  that  lay  over  the  sea ; 
And  how  you  would  greet  my  return,  sweet  Annie, 

When  kind  fortune  had  sent  me  to  thee. 

Oh,  would  I  had  sank  in  the  wave  then,  dear  Annie, 
'T  would  been  better,  far  better,  for  me, 

Had  the  deep  ocean  bed  been  my  grave,  my  Annie, 
For  then  thou,  at  least,  Jiadst  been  free. 

For  misfortune  has  followed  my  path,  dear  Annie, 
And  sickness  has  wasted  my  frame  ; 

And  e'er  Winter  has  passed  in  his  wrath,  sweet 

Annie, 
There  '11  be  naught  left  of  me,  save  my  name. 


FACTS  AND  FANCIE'S. 

Then  farewell  forever,  on  earth,  my  dear  Annie, 
For  hope  now  is  dead  in  my  breast, 

Save  the  hope  that 's  immortal  at  birth,  my  Annie, 
To  meet  those  we  love  with  the  blest. 


I  LOVE   THEE   STILL. 


Sweet  reminiscence  of  the  past 
Those  bygone  days  shall  ever  be  ; 
For  wheresoe'er  my  lot  be  cast 
My  thoughts  still  fondly  turn  to  thee. 

There,  crowned  on  Memory's  airy  throne, 
Serenely  sweet,  and  purely  fair, 
Reign  till  the  grave  hath  claimed  its  own, 
And  sleeps  my  clay  in  silence  there. 

I  can  not,  will  not,  say  "  farewell/* 
Though  parted,  we  shall  meet  again 
Where  all  may  love,  where  all  may  dwell 
In  peace,  and  Love  shall  say  "  Amen." 


J20  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

O,  think  not  that  my  heart  is  cold  ! 
O,  do  not  think  1  shall  forget 
Those  pleasant  scenes,  those  days  of  old. 
No,  no  !  they  sweetly  haunt  me  yet. 

If  I  have  ever  done  thee  wrong, 
Or  ever  caused  thee  one  regret, 
Forgive,  forgive  !  shall  be  my  song, 
But  O,  I  can  not  say  "  forget." 

Forget !  no,  no  !  my  heart  rebels, 
My  tongue  shall  not  belie  my  will ; 
Within  my  heart  thy  image  dwells, 
And,  Darling,  O,  I  love  thee  still. 


THE   SOLDIER'S   FAREWELL. 


'T  is  fate,  we  must  part,  my  sweet  Mary,  good  -  by, 
Let  us  hope  we  shall  soon  meet  again ; 

'Tis  the  stern  voice  of  duty  commands  me  to  hie 
Once  more  to  the  tent  -  dotted  plain. 

For  my  comrades  are  waiting  my  coming,  to  march 

And  join  in  the  battle  array : 
Where  the  death-storm  is  raging,  and  fevered  lips 
parch, 

I  must  mingle  my  might  in  the  fray. 

Then  sadly,  fondly,  farewell,  dear  Mary, 
Let  us  hope,  only  hope  for  the  best ; 

Should  I  fall,  all  I  crave  is  a  tear,  Mary, 
For  him  who  has  gone  to  his  rest. 


FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Thou  art  weeping,  my  Mary ;   forbear,  dear,  as 

yet- 
Though  tears  are  becoming  in  thee  ; 
And  how  can  I  chide  thee  ?     I  should  not  forget 
Those  love -dews  are  falling  for  me. 

Believe  me,  dear  Mary,  should  mine  be  the  death 
Which  is  borne  in  the  battle's  fierce  flame, 

Should  the  death  -shot  but  leave  me  one  lingering 

breath, 
I  will  shape  it  to  whisper  thy  name. 

Then  sadly,  fondly,  farewell,  dear  Mary, 
Let  us  hope,  only  hope  for  the  best ; 

Should  I  fall,  all  I  crave  is  a  tear,  Mary,     . 
For  him  who  has  gone  to  his  rest. 


SINKING   OF  THE  NORTHFLEET. 


[Early  in  1873,  the  ship  Northfleet,  while  anchored  for  the  night 
in  the  British  Channel,  was  run  into  by  a  steamer  and  sunk,  with  over 
three  hundred  men,  women  and  children  on  board.  Captain  Knowles, 
the  commander,  conducted  himself  In  the  most  heroic  manner,  and 
stood  at  his  post  when  the  ship  went  down.  His  wife,  a  young  girl  of 
nineteen,  to  whom  lie  had  only  been  a  few  weeks  married,  he  succeeded 
In  getting  into  one  of  the  boats  with  some  of  the  other  ladies,  and  she 
was  saved.  "Good-by,  my  darling,"  cried  he,  from  the  parting  planks 
•Good-by,  my  love;  1  shall  never  see  you  more,''  was  her  reply  from 
the  crowded  boat.] 


"  Darling,  farewell ! "  the  gallant  captain  cried  ; 
"  A  long  farewell  to  thee,  my  lovely  bride  ! " 
As  on  the  sinking  Northfleet's  fractured  side 

He  dauntless  stood. 

"  Farewell,  my  love,  I  ne'er  shall  see  you  more  ! " 
The  wife  replied,  as,  moving  t'ward  the  shore, 
The  human -freighted  life -boat  struggled  o'er 

The  briny  flood. 

There,  there,  among  that  terror-stricken  throng, 
The  captain,  keeping  back  the  rough  and  strong, 


124  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Urged  the  weak  and  timid  ones  along 

Into  the  boats  ; 

Cheering  by  act,  and  firm,  though  kindly  word, 
Three  hundred  souls  that  still  are  left  on  board, 
Inspiring  hope  that  all  might  be  restored 

While  yet  she  floats. 

But  ah !  she  settles !  hope  begins  to  wane  ! 
All  human  efforts  now  are  idly  vain  ! 
She  plunges  deep  in  the  engulphing  main 

To  rise  no  more  ; 

While  the  divided  waters  pressing  round, 
Rush  in  the  chasm  with  a  mighty  bound, 
And  eddying,  seething,  with  a  dreadful  sound, 

Deep  whelmed  them  o'er. 

Honor  to  him  who  stood  upon  the  deck ! 
Commander  still,  though  of  a  sinking  wreck  ; 
Scorning  to  quit,  yet  powerless  to  check 
The  coming  doom. 


SINKING  OF    THE  NORTHFLEET.  125 

True  as  a  Trojan,  faithful  to  his  post, 
Giving  what  aid  he  could  at  any  cost, 
Thoughtless  of  self,  he,  with  the  many  lost, 
Sank  to  his  tomb. 

England,  the  loss  be  thine  !  yet  mayest  thou  tell 
How  still  thy  sons  perform  their  duty  well, 
E'en  while  they  listen  to  the  dread  death -knell 

Call  on  their  souls  ; 

Parting  from  loved  ones  with  a  yearning  heart, 
While  throes  of  anguish  pierce  them  like  a  dart, 
Yet  firm  and  true  to  duty's  sacred  part, 

Like  gallant  Knowles. 


STORM  AT  SEA. 


The  air  is  a  whirlwind  !  the  ocean  is  foam  ! 
And  the  shadow  of  night  is  abroad  on  the  main. 
O'er  the  wild  seething  chaos,  the  deep  thunders 

roam, 

And  the  lightnings  are  battling  the  darkness  in  vain. 
Will  peace  ever  dwell  on  the  waters  again  ? 
How  the  mad,  moaning  hurricane  hastens  away 
And  ravels  the  whitecaps  to  volleys  of  spray. 
Wild  terror  and  tumult !  the  spirit  of  Cain 
Seems  urging  the  elements  on  to  the  fray. 
While  the  shouts  of  revenge  and  the  wailings  of 

pain, 

With  angry  upbraidings  and  cries  of  dismay, 
Obtrude  on  the  ear  in  a  soul  -  chilling  strain, 
Appalling  the  senses  with  vivid  alarm, 
While  we  're  tossed  like  a  splinter,  the  sport  of 

the  storm. 

126 


THE   PITILESS   SNOW. 


[On  the  7tU  of  January,  1873,  commenced  one  of  the  most  terrible 
snow  and  wind  storms  on  record.  Ill  parts  of  Iowa,  Minnesota,  and 
Wisconsin  it  raged  for  three  days  with  unabated  fury.  Trains  were 
snowed  iu  and  travel  was  effectually  stopped.  Hundreds  of  persons  in 
different  parts  ef  the  country  perished  from  cold  and  exhaustion.  So 
strong  was  the  wind  and  so  dense  and  blinding  the  snow  that  it  was 
impossible  to  discern  any  object  even  within  a  few  yards.  Many  persons 
were  lost,  and  some  perished  within  a  stone's  throw  of  their  habitations. 
The  whole  atmosphere  seemed  like  a  vast  whirlpool  of  snow.] 


Oh,  the  snow,  the  pitiless  snow ! 
It  has  filled  many  hearts  full  of  sorrow  and  woe, 
For  it  swept  like  a  furious  flood  o'er  the  land  : 
Like  a  raging  destroyer,  its  pulse  -  stilling  hand 
Fell  chill  on  the  wanderers.     Toilsome  and  slow 
Still  they  struggled  along ;  but,  oh  !  where  could 

they  go  ? 
True,  they  move  as  they  think  •   but,  oh !    how 

could  they  know  ? 
They  were  blinded  and  stunned  by  the  pitiless 

snow. 


128  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Oh,  the  snow,  the  merciless  snow  ! 
How  it  beat  in  their  faces,  a  querulous  foe ; 
How  it  eddied  and  whirled  in  the  bellowing  blast ; 
How  it  filled  in  their  footprints,  ere  scarce  they 

had  passed ; 
How  it  stung  ev'iy  cheek,  like  sharp  blows  from 

a  whip ; 
How  it  drove  in  their  ears,  how  it  chafed  ev'ry 

lip; 
How    each    swift-flying    particle   dealt    them    a 

blow: 
They  're  bewildered  and  lost  in  the  pitiless  snow. 

Oh,  the  snow,  the  treacherous  snow ! 
How  inviting  and  soft  were  the  drifts  down  below ; 
And  the  furious  surges  careering  went  by, 
Obscuring  the  earth,  and  obscuring  the  sky. 
No  landmark  to  guide  them,  no  succor  is  near, 
To  .call's  worse  than  useless,  there's  no  one  to 
hear ! 


THE  PITILESS  SNOW.  129 

Oh,  how  cold!  oh,  how  tired!     "  Shall  we  sleep  ?" 

Oh,  no,  no  ! 
'T  is  death  to  lie  down  in  the  pitiless  snow. 

Oh,  the  snow,  the  cold  driving  snow ! 

How  it  harrassed,  and  pelted,  and  tortured  them, 

Oh, 

Great  God !  to  be  lost  in  the  terrible  storm  ! 
What  dread  apprehension,  what  silent  alarm 
Stole  mute  o'er  their  hearts !  and  they  struggled 

again. 
Oh,  wherefore  ?   they  knew  not !  they  felt  't  was 

in  vain ; 

So  tired,  cold,  and  hopeless,  and  blinded,  and  so 
Overwhelmed  by  the  cruel  and  pitiless  snow. 

Oh,  the  snow,  the  wind -driven  snow  ! 
How  it  stifled  their  breath  in  its  fierce  onward  flow. 
And  so  cold  !  't  was  so  cold  !  oh,  how  bitterly  cold, 
As  it  circled  about  them  a  life  -  chilling  fold. 


130  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  they  faltered  and  sank  in  the  treacherous 
drifts, 

And  the  blast  howls  and  moans,  and  the  cruel 
snow  sifts 

O'er  their  prostrated  forms ;  and  soon  lifeless  be 
low 

They  were  hidden  away  in  the  pitiless  snow. 

Oh,  the  snow,  the  conquering  snow  ! 

Their  thoughts  and  their  feelings  we  never  may 

know, 

When,  in  the  tornado,  they  yielded  their  breath 
To  the  cold,  cruel,  white-winged  Herald  of  Death. 
Some  died  where  their  duties  had  called  them  to 

roam, 
Far  away  from  their  loved  ones.     Some  perished 

near  home : 

Near  to  it,  yet  found  it  not.     Sorrowful !     Oh, 
It  was  hidden  from  view  by  the  pitiless  snow. 


JOHN  BARLEYCORN,  THE  HIGHWAYMAN. 


Oh,  how  time  speeds  away ! 
Why  it  seems  but  a  day 
Since  that  onslaught,  so  fearfully  tragic : 

I  can 't  make  it  appear 

That  almost  a  full  year 
Has  vanished  ;  it  seems  so  like  magic/ 


Since  dread  three  -  fingered  Jack, 

With  Joaquin   and  his  pack, 
Gathered  toll  in  our  Western  possessions ; 

Or  since  gallant  Duval, 

Turpm,  Sheppard,  and  all 
Those  old  trumps  of  the  "genteel  professions"- 


132  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

There's  been  naught  to  compare 

With  the  pad  we  have  here  ; 
And  when  I  relate  you  '11  believe  me. 

The  great  prince  of  them  all, 

Whether  burly  or  tall, 
Is  the  roadster  of  famed  Lake  Geneva. 

'T  was  a  dark  silent  night, 

Not  a  star  was  in  sight, 
When  a  horseman  came  up  on  a  canter : 

He  had  been  into  town, 

And  was  done  rather  "  brown," 
Bold  and  fearless  as  great  Tarn  O'Shanter. 

On  the  lone  sandy  beach 

There 's  a  desolate  stretch, 
Where  the  trees  have  all  left  on  a  "  bender," 

All  save  one  grim  old  scrub, 

A  bleached,  weather-worn  stub, 
Weird  and  scrawny  as  she  of  old  Endor. 


JOHN  BARLEYCORN.  133 

He  was  Hearing  this  spot, 

All  his  cares  were  forgot, 
He  was  happy,  gay,  merry  and  cheerful, 
.  When  there  slipt  from  a  niche 

In  this  old  wooden  witch, 
A  something,  which  made  him  feel  fearful. 


A  dread,  ominous 

With  its  face  veil'd  in  crape, 
It  roared  out,  "  Halt  !  pungle  !  'no  whining  ! 

If  you  speak,  I  '11  be  sworn 

You  shall  ne'er  see  the  morn, 
And  the  sun  of  your  life  shall  cease  shining." 

Fitz  Quinn,  wishing  for  speed, 

Put  the  spurs  to  his  steed, 
The  threat  of  the  robber  not  heeding, 

When  an  arm  like,  a  rail 

Cleft  the  air  like  a  flail, 
And  our  hero  lay  senseless  and  bleeding. 


134  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Stepping  up,  cool  and  calm, 

To  the  still  prostrate  form, 
He  quietly  searched  ev'ry  pocket ; 

Taking  ev'rything  out, 

He  arranged  them  about, 
And  thus  entered  all  down  in  his  docket : — 

"  1  old  corkscr^fc,  3  quills, 
2  small  fractional  bills, 
1  jack -knife  and  1  five -cent  nickel, 

1  stub  five  -  cent  cigar, 

2  checks  '  good  at  the  bar,' 
Some  hair  dye,  1  vinegar  pickle." 

Having  made  up  his  mind 

'T  was  no  very  great  find, 
He  hid  in  his  roost  near  the  waters, 

Saying,  "  The  poor  devil 's  slack, 

So  I  put  it  all  back ; 
And  the  cash,  I  '11  get  that  at  headquarters. 


JOHN  BARLEYCORN.  135 

MORAL. 

All  ye  good  men  of  Linn, 
When  perchance  yon  have  been 

To  the  flourishing  town  of  Geneva, 
Have  an  eye  to  the  coast, 
Shun  the  dread  "  robber's  roost," 

Lest  the  terrible  inmate  relieve  ye. 

In  advice,  I  would  say, 

'Tis  the  much  safer  way 
To  come  home  in  the  light  of  the  day,  man. 

Staying  late,  you  may  fall 

'Neath  the  slung -shot  or  maul 
Of  John  Barleycorn,  the  highwayman. 

I  have  seen  in  my  time 
Men  of  every  clime 
Crawling  'round  on  all  fours,  like  a  cayman. 


136  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Why  ?     The  reason  was  plain, 
They  had  met,  not  in  vain, 
With  John  Barleycorn,  the  highwayman. 

When  at  eve  you  begin, 
That  is,  when  you  start  in 
To  end  up  a  glorious  day,  man, 
Have  a  care,  lest  ere  morn 

You  be  gored 

By  the  "  horn" 

Or  be  floored 

By  the  "  horn," 
And  your  pockets  completely  explored 

By  the  "  horn" 

And  your  cash  from  them  borne, 
You  be  left  all  forlorn, 
All  the  rights  of  your  manhood  ignored 

By  the  "  horn," 

With  your  face  scratched  and  torn, 
And  your  eyes  left  to  mourn, 


JOHN  BARLEYCORN.  137 

By  the  magical, 

Tragical, 

Wonderful  "  horn," 
Of  this  strange  unicorn, 

Famed, 

And  surnamed, 
John  Barleycorn,  the  highwayman. 


POP -CORN. 


Who  would  write  must  have  a  theme. 

These  are  plentiful  as  air, 

And  before  us  everywhere, 

Like  the  current  of  a  stream, 

They  are  ever  passing  by. 

Some  address  them  to  the  ear ; 

Others  still  attract  the  eye  ; 

And  still  others  do  appear 

To  us  in  a  double  sense, 

Having  double  power  to  please, 

And  are  favored  subjects ;  hence, 

Erry  scribbler  writes  of  these. 

Such  the  lily  and  the  rose, 

While  the  eye  feasts  on  their  bloom, 

Lo,  the  unpoetic  nose 


POP -CORN.  139 

Drinks  the  sweets  of  their  perfume. 
So  the  birds  with  plumage  bright 
Other  offerings  can  give, 
Great  as  those  which  please  the  sight : 
Song,  which  makes  us  glad  they  live. 
Love  and  beauty,  two  in  one. 
Beauty  caters  to  the  eye 
Till  it  has  the  heart  undone, 
Then  tis  love,  and  many  a  sigh 
Tells  the  heart's  sweet  misery. 
But  I  '11  none  of  these  for  me  : 
Of  such  things  let  others  dream  — 
Pop  -  corn  be  my  bursting  theme. 

Flinty  kernels  hard  as  rice, 
Live  torpedoes  ev'ry  one, 
O'er  the  fire  and  in  a  trice 
The  bombardment  is  begun. 
Helter,  skelter,  rattle,  bang ! 
Hear  the  Lilliputian  din  ! 


140  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Vegetable  bombshells  clang, 
'Sploding  'gainst  a  roof  of  tin. 
Now  the  volley,  gaining  power, 
Crackles  like  a  hailstone  show&r 
Pelting  'gainst  a  crystal  tower, 
Or  the  constant  fusilade 
Of  the  fire  -  cracker  brigade 
At  the  most  expensive  rate 
On  the  day  we  celebrate. 
Quickly  the  explosions  cease, 
Save  a  straggler  now  and  then, 
Till  there  comes  a  perfect  peace, 
And  you  raise  the  cover,  when 
Lo,  before  your  favored  sight, 
Bloomed  from  out  those  flinty  grains, 
Blossoms  of  a  faultless  white 
Heaped  on  high  reward  your  pains. 
Snow  sinks  back  into  the  shade  ; 
Chalk  and  milk  are  down  the  grade  ; 


POP  -  CORN. 

Purest  lime  cannot  compare 
With  the  perfect  whiteness  there. 

So  it  seems  the  little  seeds,  t 

Brought  in  contact  with  the  heat, 
Strive  to  regulate  their  needs, 
And  to  doff  their  coats  complete 
Waltz  about  in  fitful  whirls, 
Swelled  with  misery  and  pain, 
Till  their  coats  are  rent  in  twain, 
And  they  bloom  to  starry  pearls. 

Should  you  wish  to  laud  your  love, 
Step  outside  the  beaten  trail 
Of  comparisons  now  stale. 
Toss  your  gauntlet  from  above, 
Far  beyond  where  all  have  stopt 
Try  to  make  it  understood 
That  she  's  beautiful  and  good, 
And  fair  as  corn  that 's  newly  popt. 


PROLOGUE 

WRITTEN  FOR  THE  CALMAR  AMATEUR  DRAMATIC    CLUB,  AND 

SPOKEN  ON  THEIR  OPENING  NIGHT  IN  THE  NEW  HALL, 

JANUARY,  1873. 


Friends !  neighbors !  citizens  !  good  people  all ! 
We  're  pleased  to  meet  you  in  this  spacious  hall. 
On  you  and  us  to-night  devolves  the  part 
To  dedicate  it  to  histr'onic  art. 
Yet  think !  the  artists  are  but  amateurs, 
Their  powers  of  acting  much  akin  to  yours. 
A  fortnight's  practice  don't  suffice,  in  truth 
To  make  a  Garrick  of  a  country  youth ; 
Nor  will  a  part  rehearsed  in  some  charade 
Prepare  a  Siddons  from  a  village  maid. 
We  're  mere  theatric  tyros,  and,  as  such, 
We  simply  ask  you  '11  not  expect  too  much. 
For  lack  of  skill,  let  this  fact  make  amends, — 
The  actors  are  your  neighbors  and  your  friends. 


PROLOGUE.  143 

Our  object  —  if  you  have  a  care  to  know  — 
In  dramatizing  for  a  local  show, 
Is  to  diversify  our  leisure  hours, 
And  give  an  impulse  to  our  dormant  powers. 
Nor  this  alone  the  end  we  have  in  view  ! 
Good  people,  we  would  also  say  to  you, 
Life  is  a  task !  and  in  that  task  we  should 
Seize  ev'ry  passing  chance  of  doing  good. 
He  who  can  rob  his  neighbor  unaware, 
By  filching  from  his  breast  a  load  of  care, 
He  is  a  blessed  thief,  and  in  his  case 
The  thief's  a  benefactor  to  his  race. 
And  thinking  thus,  should  we  but  so  impart 
Smiles  to  one  cheek,  or  pleasure  to  one  heart, 
Then  shall  we  gather  hope  to  try  again, 
In  feeling  that  our  toil  was  not  in  vain. 

Nor  all  as  yet !     Another  point  is  this — 

This  newly -built  substantial  edifice 

Wherein  we  're  met,  sprung  up  before  our  eyes, 


144  FACTS  AND  FANCIES.- 

The  growth  of  individual  enterprise. 
Yet  those  who  stood  the  brunt  of  building  it, 
They  have  conferred  a  public  benefit. 
The  public  sees !  the  public  has  an  ear  ! 
The  public  says,  "  Oh,  would  some  chance  appeal- 
Where  our  appreciation  might  be  shown  ; 
How  freely,  gladly,  would  we  make  it  known." 
We  read  these  worthy  longings  in  advance, 
And  seek  to  give  the  people  all  a  chance. 

We  would  the  worthy  men  might  gain  renown 
Who  built  this  goodly  structure  in  our  town  ; 
And  so  they  will !  who  more  renowned  than  they 
Who  leave  such  works  along  life's  toilsome  way  ? 
While  Landin  lives  and  Anderson  survives 
'T  will  be  a  noted  milestone  in  their  lives ; 
And  when  they  've  done  with  life,  and  sleep  con 
tent, 
Long  may  it  stand,  a  useful  monument. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  FRIEND  AND 
TUTOR  — JAMES  WALSH. 


Death,  when  he  plucks  from  out  our  very  midst 
One  whom  in  early  youth  we  looked  upon 
As  being  something  greater  than  the  rest, — 
The  seeming  acme  of  intelligence, — 
Who  solved  all  knotty  problems  that  arose 
Too  complicate  for  our  young  minds  to  grasp ; 
And  yet,  as  time  rolled  on,  still  kept  his  place, 
The  acknowledged  leader ;  foremost  of  the  van 
In  all  that  looked  to  learning  and  to  power 
Of  comprehension  :  Death,  then,  the  leveler, 
In  laying  low  a  being  such  as  this, 
Startles  our  senses,  and  our  thoughts  revert 
Back  to  the  past.     What  was  he  who  is  gone  ? 
What  has  he  done,  what  suffered,  what  forborne  ? 


J46  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

What  were  the  leading  features  of  his  life  ? 
And  what  the  acquisitions  of  his  toil  ? 
Are  questions  that  arise  within  the  mind 
Whene'er  a  friend  is  borne  off  to  the  tomb. 

Here,  then,  a  scholar  has  laid  by  his  books/ 
His  globes  and  charts,  his  callipers  and  rules ; 
And  quit  his  studies  at  the  call  of  Death. 
No  summons  else  could  call  his  busy  brain 
Off  from  its  wonted  task.     To  contemplate 
The  starry  heavens,  and  point  out  suns, 
Systems,  and  constellations,  and  to  fix 
Their  modes  of  revolution  in  his  mind  ; 
Then  fashion  models,  and  with  cunning  skill, 
Fix,  gear,  and  on  their  axes  nicely  poise, 
That  their  manipulations  might  express 
The  perfect  movements  of  the  real  spheres ; 
To  demonstrate  the  theory  of  tides, 
And  the  strange  workings  of  the  restless  winds ; 
To  thread  the  mazy  paths  of  Euclid's  text ; 


DEATH  OF  A    FRIEND  AND    TUTOR.          147 

To  ponder  long  with  unabating  zeal 
O'er  musty  volumes  of  historic  lore  ; — 
This  was  his  rest,  his  pastime,  and  his  toil, 
The  Alpha  and  Omega  of  his  joys. 

He  sought  for  learning  but  for  learning's  sake, 
And  the  sweet  satisfaction  that  the  mind 
Feels  in  the  mastery  of  something  great. 
No  golden  visions  lured  him  to  the  task ! 
No  dreams  of  fame,  of  favor,  or  of  pow'r ; 
But  as  the  sportsmen  hies  him  to  the  fields 
With  dog  and  gun,  so  turned  he  to  his  books 
To  seek  the  pleasure  which  his  heart  most  craved. 

It  was  his  wont  at  times  to  gather  'round 
His  sometime  pupils,  and  his  youthful  friends, 
And  chain  them  with  the  magic  of  his  speech ; 
The  while  relating,  in  deep  dulcet  tones, 
Some  quaint  old  legend,  or  some  fairy  tale, 
Or  some  historic  fact  that  marked  perhaps, 


148  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

A  distinct  epoch  in  the  world's  career. 

Perhaps  't  was  of  the  field  of  Waterloo; 

Or  of  De  Gama's  early  voyages  ; 

Or  of  the  great  exploits  of  Captain  Cook ; 

Or  of  the  tricks  of  Sir  John  Mandeville 

The  early  traveler,  and  the  wond'rous  tales 

(Which  were  not  facts)  he  told  his  British  friends  ; 

Or  of  the  fierce  Pizarro  in  Peru  ; 

Or  bloody  Cortez  in  Old  Mexico  ; 

And  then,  when  he  would  cease,  't  was  whispered 

"late," 
For  time  had  sped  and  had  received  no  heed. 

His  sayings  were  pure  logic  gemmed  with  wit, 
And  brought   from   wisdom's   deep,    exhaustless 

mine ; 

And  were  they  chronicled,  how  would  they  glow 
Upon  the  tablet  of  futurity, — 
How  earnestly  and  eloquently  plead 
With  cold  Oblivion  to  spare  his  name. 


DEATH  OF  A   FRIEND  AND    TUTOR. 

His  course  is  ended !     In  a  few  short  years 
But  few  will  know  that  he  has  ever  lived  ! 
The  onslaughts  of  disease,  the  "  whips  and  scorns," 
"  Chill  penury,"  and  "  hope  deferred"  too  oft, 
Which  he  withstood,  are  known  but  to  a  few  : 
But  they  will  cherish  long  his  memory, 
And  cite  again  the  tales  he  used  to  tell, 
Till  they,  like  him,  are  laid  beneath  the  sod. 

"  Fond  Nature's  gifted  child  !  "  he  lies  at  peace, 

Low  in  the  grave,  with  his  departed  babes. 

Oh  !  may  they  lead  him  through  the  shad'wy  vale 

Into  the  presence  of  a  loving  God  ! 

There  may  he  find  a  fairer  home  than  earth, 

A  deeper  sympathy  than  man  can  give. 


IN   MEMORY   OF   JOHN   HEYWOOD, 

Who  died  on  the  shore  of  Geneva  Lake,  while  bathiug,  July  5>2,  1874. 


We  entertain  an  honest  zeal 

To  offer  tribute  to  the  dead 

Whom  we  have  known,  when  we  can  feel 

The  simple  truth  needs  but  be  said. 

We  're  called  to  mourn  one  who  has  stepped 
Out  from  our  midst  when  full  of  years 
And  simple  honors  strictly  kept, 
With  ev?ry  trait  that  most  endears. 

An  honest  man,  a  genial  friend, 

A  favorite  with  young  and  old, 

In  whom  all  virtues  seemed  to  blend, 

Like  silver  intermixed  with  gold. 

150 


IN  MEMORY  OF  JOHN  HEY  WOOD.         151 

A  inind  well  stored  with  past  events, 
Of  many  years  the  garnered  truth, 
And  rich  in  startling  precedents, 
Made  him  an  oracle  to  youth. 

No  flattery  escaped  his  lips, 

Though  ever  affable  and  kind  : 

His  words,  like  hounds  released  from  slips, 

Sprang  forth,  but  left  no  sting  behind. 

'T  was  acting  out  the  "  Golden  Rule," 
At  least  so  all  who  knew  him  said, 
That  made  him  dear  to  all  who  knew 
The  good  old  man  who  now  is  dead. 

I  do  not  know  of  his  belief, 

I  never  heard  him  give  it  voice  ; 

But  from  his  actions,  judging  brief, 

It  could  not  have  been  else  than  choice. 


152  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Who  never  wrongs  his  fellow -man, 
Nor  wounds,  save  when  at  duty's  call, 
He  worships  God  as  only  can 
Those  who  have  charity  for  all. 

The  stickler  after  forms  and  creeds 
May  act  by  rote  a  chosen  part, 
But  God  makes  judgment  of  our  deeds 
Done  from  the  promptings  of  the  heart. 


Alone  upon  the  pebbly  strand, 
Where  rippling  wavelets  kissed      e  shore, 
Death  touched  him  with  its  icy  hand ; 
His  spirit  fled,  he  was  no  more. 

The  sky's  expanse  smiled  overhead ; 
About  him,  hill,  and  glen,  and  lake 
Lay  like  a  living  -picture  spread, 
When  thus  the  voice  of  Nature  spake  : — 


IN  MEMORY  OF  JOHN  HEY  WOOD.          153 

"  Come  to  thy  God  and  take  thy  rest ! 
Thy  earthly  pilgrimage  is  o'er  : 
Come,  where  no  sorrow  racks  the  breast, 
And  meet  thy  loved  ones  gone  before." 


THE  NATION'S  REBUKE. 


[At  the  Democratic  National  Convention,  held  in  Baltimore,  August, 
1872.  at  which  Hoi-ace  Greeley  received  the  nomination  for  President.— 
indorsing  the  action  of  the  Cincinnati  Convention,— much  dissatisfaction 
was  expressed  by  a  certain  class  of  the  Democracy,  and  a  bolt  was  at 
once  inaugurated.  In  this  side  issue  it  was  decided  to  hold  another  con 
vention,  at  Louisville,  Kentucky.  A  Mr.  Jackson,  ot  Massachusetts,  then 
arose  and  recommended  that  they  introduce  several  new  'planks"  into 
the  Louisville  platform,  among  which  were  the  following: —"Resolved, 
that  the  pension  laws  be  so  amended  as  to  include  the  soldiers  of  the 
late  Southern  Confederacy."  'Resolved,  that  the  National  Flag  be  so 
changed  as  to  be  acceptable  to  all  sections  of  our  country."] 


What !  change  the  Flag  ?  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
That  floated  o'er  our  freedom's  birth, 
And  placed  us  'mong  the  Powers  of  earth 
One  of  the  mightiest  States  that  be  ? 
No  !  curse  the  thought!  and  curst  be  he 
Who  would  obscure  a  single  star 
Or  introduce  a  foreign  "  bar" 
Into  the  flag  that  made  us  free. 

Thousands  have  spent  their  latest  breath, 
And  struggled  manfully  with  Death, 


THE  NATION'S  REBUKE. 

To  keep  unsoiled  the  nation's  trust ! 
To  let  it  tarnish  in  the  dust 
Were  treason  in  the  first  degree. 

Oh,  ye  who  fell  at  Bunker  Hill ! 
And  ye  who  bled  on  Yorktown  plain  ! 
Ye,  too,  who  perished  on  the  main, 
When  death -bolts  whistled  wild  and  shrill  ! 
Shades  of  the  heroes  of  Champlain ! 
Have  ye  all  fallen,  and  in  vain  ? 
The  flag  ye  battled  to  maintain, 
Shall  it  be  changed  at  treason's  will  ? 

Oh,  ye  !  who  in  a  later  day 

Have  borne  it  through  the  gory  flood, 

When  flecked  with  dying  freemen's  blood, 

Spilt  to  uphold  it  in  the  fray 

Which  swept  that  cursed  blot  away ! 

That  inkv,  ignominious  stain  ! 

\j    '       O 

That  child  of  greed  !  that  ghoul  of  gain, 


156  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Which  yielded  only  woe  and  pain  ! 
Which  only  served  as  hellish  food 
To  agitate  this  sisterhood 
Of  mighty  States !  oh  ye,  I  say 
Who  snapped  the  chain  of  slavery 
And  set  the  bonded  millions  free  ! 
What  say  ye  ?  shall  this  ever  be  ? 

Who  dare  insult  posterity 

To  even  hint  a  mongrel  flag ! 

A  treason  -  tainted  scurvy  rag, 

That  well  might  shame  his  progeny. 

Far  better  hide  his  head  and  die, 

Alone,  in  dim  obscurity, 

Than  seek  for  notoriety 

Thus  steeped  in  deepest  obloquy. 

Three  times  ten  million  tongues  proclaim 

Throughout  the  land  his  sentence  — "  Shame  !  " 

Grant  universal  amnesty ! 
Graii.t  all  their  equal  liberty, 


THE  NATION'S  REBUKE.  157 

With  strictest  impartiality ! 

But  pension  rebel  soldiery 

Or  change  the  flag  ?     It  must  not  be  ! 

God  grant  the  nation  wisdom's  pow'r, 
To  see  aright  this  trying  hour  ! 
And  our  next  Ruler, — grant  that  he 
(Or  Grant  or  Greeley)  still  may  be 
The  people's  choice  !     God  grant  him  skill 
To  make  our  nation  prosper  still. 


GREELEY  IN  MEMORIAM. 


Dead !  passed  away !  gone  from  the  stormy  world 

To  the  abode  of  rest !     Unmindful  now, 

The  slumbering  sage,  of  cruel  taunts  and  jeers, 

The  darts  of  slander  and  malignity. 

Low  lies  at  peace,  upon  his  mother's  breast, 

The  mightiest  captain  of  proud  Freedom's  host ! 

The  champion  and  exponent  of  truth  ! 

The  great  undaunted  Hector  of  the  pen  ! 

And  who  will  mourn,  and  who  deplore  his  loss  ? 
"  Who  ?  "     The  world  at  large  !  the  rich,  the  poor, 
The  good,  the  truly  great !      Unprejudiced, 
The  universal  mind  must  needs  be  sad, 

For  he  that 's  passed  away  befriended  all. 

158 


GREELEY  IN  MEMORIAM.  159 

Rear'd  in  chill  penury,  inured  to  toil, 

Beset  with  care  from  early  youth,  who  knew 

Better  than  he  the  many  tanglements 

That  block  the  poor  man's  path  ?   And  who  than  he 

Hath  labored  harder  to  assuage  his  ills  ? 

Forth  from  his  ready  pen  streamed  o'er  the  earth 

A  golden  flood  of  wisdom  :  sparkling  truths, 

Deductions  clear,  and  inferences  apt — 

Their  aim  and  end  to  benefit  mankind. 

If  he  hath  ever  err'd,  (and  who  has  not  ?) 

( 
'T  was  error  of  the  judgment,  for  his  heart 

Was  ever  filled  with  honesty  of  purpose. 

If  Reason,   urged  by   Conscience,    whispered 

"  right," 

Right  manfully  he  'd  advocate  her  cause, 
Though  all  the  world  beside  might  scoff  and  sneer. 
His  labor  was  to  lessen  human  ills, 
Abridge  the  poor  man's  toil,  and  to  the  weak 
Extend  a  helping  hand  ;  to  make  rough  smooth, 


1(50  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  from  the  path  of  life  pluck  out  the  thorns 
That  tear  the  passing  pilgrim's  feet :  to  make 
Existence  an  approach  to  happiness. 

Go  ask  the  ransom'd  millions  if  to  them, 

From  first  to  last,  he  hath  not  been  a  friend. 

For  three  decades  did  he  not  tug,  and  wrench, 

And  hammer  at  their  rusty  manacles, 

"Which  yielded  only  to  the  sabre's  stroke  ? 

Aye,  true  !  and  now  he  's  gone,  the  scalding  tears 

Will  freely  course  down  many  a  dusky  cheek, 

And  many  a  mother  to  her  babe  will  say, 

"  The  good  man  's  dead  who  worked  so  long  and 

hard 
To  make  your  father  and  your  mother  free." 

After  a  long  and  glorious  career, 
An  age  of  ard'ous  toil  and  usefulness, 
His  life -sun  sinking  to  the  western  line, 
Ingratitude  threw  in  his  face  her  spleen ; 


GREELEY  IN  MEMORIAM.  161 

And  Death — cold,  cruel  Death — tore  from  his 

heart 
The  faithful  partner  of  his  cares  and  joy. 

His  record  stands  a  living  pyramid ! 

His  mem'ry,  like  a  spiritual  sphynx, 

Will  smile  forever  from  Duration's  verge  ! 

And  countless  generations  yet  unborn 

Shall  trace  his  "  footprints  in  the  sands  of  time." 

What  said  his  worst  maligners  ?     Even  they  — 
Speaking  no  good  the  truth  did  not  enforce  — 
Have  said  (sublime  and  fitting  epitaph) 
"  He  was  (that  precious  thing,  so  seldom  found, 

God's  perfect  masterpiece,)  an  honest  man." 

• 

Struggling  obscured  at  tunes,  at  times  all  bright 
With  momentary  luster,  flashing  'tween 
The  stratum  -  clouds  of  poverty  and  toil, 
The  bright  orb  of  his  intellect  arose, 


161 


1(32  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Scaling  the  arch  of  life's  eventful  morn, 
Then  sailing  grandly  into  manhood's  day, 
Reaching  that  zenith,  the  proud  noon  of  life, 
Electrified  the  world  with  glowing  power. 
Nor  yet  it  faded,  but,  like  summer's  sun, 
Grew  more  intense  while  sinking,  till  it  fell 
Behind  a  cloud,  a  dark  foreboding  cloud, 
And  sudden  gloom  fell  o'er  the  closing  day. 
But,  joy !  the  burnished  disk  appeared  beneath, 
Then,  nearing  to  the  verge,  gleamed  out  anew, 
A  last  bright  farewell  flash,  then  disappeared 
Behind  the  somber  horizon  of  death. 


CHARLES   SUMNER. 


He  's  dead,  and  yet  he  lives  withal  — 
Departed,  yet  he  still  remains  ; 
For  in  the  nation's  senate  hall 
The  spirit  of  his  presence  reigns 
Responsive  still  to  Freedom's  call. 
Out  from  the  past,  memorial  strains 
Bear  to  the  front  his  slogan  still, 
"Equality,  Peace,  and  Good -will." 

But  chiefly  in  the  people's  hearts 
He  lives  as  ever,  though  unseen. 
Fruits  of  his  toil,  those  deathless  parts, 
The  blessings  of  his  having  been, 
Are  staple  wares  in  Freedom's  marts ; 
Adorning,  like  the  ivy  green, 


FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

That  monument  of  human  clay, 
The  generations  of  to  -  day. 

He  was  a  bulwark  of  the  free  ! 

The  sweeping  surge  and  howling  storm 

That  'seiged  the  port  of  Liberty 

Beat  savagely  against  his  form. 

The  myrmidons  of  slavery 

Made  fearful  threats  of  coming  harm, 

But  yet  he  walked  his  sentry  still, 

And  parried  with  a  conq'ring  will. 

The  storm  was  past,  the  struggle  o'er 
The  glorious  victory  was  won. 
Where  ruled  the  starry  flag,  no  more 
A  bondsman  breathed  beneath  the  sun. 
And  yet  upon  Columbia's  shore 
He  thought  his  labors  not  yet  done, 
But  "  civil  rights  "  would  fill  his  plan 
For  the  true  Brotherhood  of  Man, 


CHARLES  SUMMER.  165 

What  aim  has  life  that 's  more  sublime 
Than  that  to  benefit  mankind  ? 
What  may  induce  remorseless  Time 
To  spare  the  name  one  leaves  behind  ? 
If  that  a  nation's  prayer  shall  find 
Acceptance  at  the  Throne  Divine, 
Then,  Sumner,  thine  shall  ever  be 
A  watchword  to  posterity. 


THE     SEASONS. 


,  SPRING. 

Bright,  joyous  Spring  !  season  of  life  and  growth! 

Before  thy  sunny  glance  the  icy  chains 

With  which  grim  Winter  bound  this  mighty  zone 

Are  all  dissolved  to  rills  of  trickling  tears, 

And  these  absorbed  to  feed  the  swelling  germs 

That  patient  lie  in  the  broad  lap  of  earth 

To  quicken  into  life  at  thy  approach. 

The  springing  grass  puts  forth  in  tender  shoots 
Its  countless  bristling  blades  of  living  green, 
Which    lengthening   droop,    and    with   the    early 

flowers, 

(Bright  figured  filling  for  the  verdant  warp,) 
Weave  the  sweet  carpet  that  adorns  the  fields. 


1 66 


THE   SEASONS.  167 

All  now  is  change !  the  branches  of  the  trees, 

That  all  the  winter  long  were  bleak  and  bare, 

Or  clad  ia  ice,  and  creaking  in  the  gale 

A  weird,  mysterious  soliloquy — 

Clanking  their  crystal  fetters  in  complaint — 

Now  bud  to  leafy  wands,  that  nod  and  sway 

In  meek  obeisance  to  the  passing  breeze. 

All  Nature's  tiny  workers  are  astir, 
And,  waking  from  that  slumber,  almost  death, 
Gaze  'round  awhile  in  silent  wonderment, 
Then  earnestly  address  themselves  to  toil. 
The  dormant  ant,  roused  from  his  lethargy, 
Crawls  upward  from  his  subterranean  cell, 
And  from  the  summit  of  his  convex  mound 
Drinks  the  inspiring  vigor  of  the  sun, 
Then  calls  a  council  of  his  sleepy  mates 
To  view  the  ruin  which  the  storms  have  wrought 
While  all  unconscious  they  have  slept  below. 
(The  winds  have  razed  the  outer  battlements, 


FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  scattered  debris  through  the  avenues ; 
The  pelting  rains  have  harrowed  up  the  paths, 
And  choked  the  entrance  to  the  upper  vaults ; 
While  the  dread  frost,  in  cold  malignity, 
Has  heaved  the  deep  foundation  of  their  home, 
And  cracked  the  superstructure  from  its  base.) 
And  swarming  forth,  the  little  artisans 
Commence  their  labors  on  the  vast  repairs. 

The  feathered  choristers  have  all  returned, 

And  when  the  morning  lisrht  first  streaks   the 

O  O 

dawn, 

The  modest  robin  pipes  his  cheery  notes, 
Nor  quits  his  tuneful  task  until  the  sun 
Swings  his  full  circle  o'er  the  eastern  bar. 
The  lark,  with  merry  twitter,  skims  the  sward  \ 
And  the  trim,  dainty  thrush,  from  lofty  perch, 
Straining  his  speckled  throat  from  very  joy, 
Pours  out  upon  the  breeze  a  flood  of  song. 


THE   SEASONS.  169 

Dense  clouds  of  blackbirds  swarm  from  tree  to  tree, 
And  hold  their  noisy  concerts  as  they  list, 
Sparring  and  cooing  in  their  changeful  moods, 
And  wooing  partners  for  the  perfect  life. 
While  on  some  sunny  morn  the  sleeping  swain 
Dreams  of  clear  streamlets  rippling  o'er  the  rocks, 
And  wakes  to  hear  what  oft  he  's  heard  before  — 
The  gladsome  babble  of  the  martins  sleek 
From  the  old  cot  ?neath  the  projecting  eaves. 

All  hail  thee,  Spring  !  thou  great  replenisher, 
That  clothes  the  tattered  earth  in  virgin  robes, 
And  fills  the  air  with  sweet  harmonious  sounds ! 
That  decks  the  hillsides  with  fair  living  gems, 
And  scatters  beauty  broadcast  o'er  the  land  ! 
That  fills  the  soul  of  youth  with  lofty  hopes, 
And  makes  him  conscious  of  progressive  power ! 
That  whispers  manhood :  "  Still  the  world  moves 

on, 
Arid  wherefore  shouldst  thou  linger  by  the  way  ?  " 


170  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

SUMMER. 

Fair  Summer,  like  a  prince  in  flowing  robes, 
Sits  now  in  state  upon  the  throne  of  Time  ; 
While  Peace  and  Plenty,  twin  prime  -  ministers, 
Exert  for  lasting  good  their  heaven-sent  powers, 
And  show'r  their  blessings  with  a  willing  hand. 
Contentment,  too,  in  calm  serenity, 
Dwells  on  the  landscape  like  a  quiet  smile, 
And  the  world  moves  toward  perpetual  day. 

All  nature  is  prolific  loveliness  ! 

The  full -leaved  trees  have  hid  from  sight  their 

boughs ; 

And  on  their  naked  trunks  poise  in  the  air, 
Green,  shapely  stacks  of  loosely  pendent  leaves, 
Beneath  whose  grateful  shade  birds  build  their 

nests, 
Carol  their  songs,  and  rear  in  peace  their  young. 


THE   SEASONS.  171 

Upon  the  fields  the  season's  crop  still  stands ! 
As  yet  no  gap  of  sickle  ©r  of  scythe 
Has  scarred  the  full  completeness  of  the  scene. 
The  grassy  meads  flash  brightly  in  the  sun, 
And  o'er  the  fields  the  thrifty,  rustling  corn 
Flaunts  its  green  ribbons  in  the  gentle  breeze  ; 
While  the  great  seas  of  verdant  cereals 
Roll  into  gentle  swells  beneath  its  touch. 

Grand  perfect  Summer  !  fullness  of  the  year ! 
Time's  brightest  picture  of  productiveness ! 
Frost  nor  maturity  has  come  as  yet, 
And  still  awhile  the  harvest  is  delayed. 

The  cock's  shrill  call  proclaims  the  faintest  dawn, 

Then  twilight's  mellow  margin  follows  on, 

Then  a  red  rim  along  the  eastern  sky, 

Melting  in  turn  as  now  the  rising  sun 

Ushers  full-blown  the  radiant  summer's  morn. 

Bird  -  songs  and  tinkling  bells  delight  the  ear, 


172  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  nature's  freshness  after  night's  repose 
Is  grateful  to  the  eye  ;  each  several  sense 
Discovers  each  a  charm,  and  these  all  blend 
To  form  a  pleasing  and  harmonious  whole. 

Early  to  feed,  the  eager,  greedy  herds 
Crop  the  sweet  grass,  now  succulent  with  dew, 
Till  hunger  is  appeased,  then  roam  at  large, 
Searching  the  pastures  for  a  dainty  bite, 
Until  oppressed  with  day's  increasing  heat 
They  seek  the  shadows  of  the  leafy  groves, 
And  lie  them  down,  with  sighs  of  deep  content. 

Upon  the  glowing  earth  the  blazing  sun 

In  rank  profusion  pours  his  steady  rays, 

Till  all  the  air  with  heat  is  tremulous, 

And  radiating  upward  to  the  skies. 

The  birds  have  sought  the  shade,  and  quit  their 

songs, 
And  folded  for  a  time  their  wings  in  rest ; — • 


THE   SEASONS.  173 

All  save  the  prowling  kite  ;  with  pinions  spread 
And  downcast  eyes,  he  grandly  soars  aloft 
In  the  blue  ether  of  the  cloudless  sky, 
Extending  still  the  circle  of  his  flight, 
Scanning  with  eager  gaze  the  earth  beneath, 
Until  he  sights  the  victim  of  his  search, 
Then  partly  folds  his  wings  and,  like  a  bolt, 
Swoops  down  upon  his  unsuspecting  prey, 
And  bears  it  to  the  eyrie  of  his  young. 

The  growing  shadows  eastward  slowly  creep, 

As  sinks  the  sun  upon  the  western  sky, 

And  settling  out  of  sight  throws  back  his  beams, 

Marking  far  up  the  arch  his  crimson  wake, 

Which  spreading,  slowly  fades,  and  twilight  ebbs 

Far  out  into  the  open  sea  of  night, 

Where  darkness  spread  upon  the  rising  tide, 

Steals  o'er  the  earth  on  its  returning  flow, 

And  brings  to  end  our  typic  summer's  day. 


174  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

AUTUMN. 

Rich,  dreamy,  mellow  Autumn  !     Nature  droops ! 

Her  glory  is  attained !  and  Sadness  now 

Floats  like  a  spirit  in  the  hazy  air. 

The  birds  have  flown,  or  silent  hang  their  heads 

As  though  in  sorrow.     From  the  orchard  twigs 

The  glowing  fruit  hangs  pendant,  or  is  moved 

To  oscillation  by  the  sluggish  wind. 

Now  and  anon,  at  little  intervals  — 

Incapable  the  longer  to  resist 

Earth's  universal  and  unchanging  law  — 

Some  yielding  pippin  severs  from  its  stem 

And  falls  submissive  to  the  withered  sward ; 

Suggesting  the  effect  of  a  like  cause 

Which  plunged  the  mighty  Newton  into  thought. 

On  the  far  sloping  hills,  in  courtly  robes 
Of  variegated  hue  —  crimson  and  gold, 


THE   SEASONS.  175 

Purple,  and  all  the  shades  that  tint  the  bow  — 
Serenely  proud,  -the  forest  beauties  stand, 
Tall  tapering  cones  of  fading  foliage, 
Glowing  resplendent  'neath  the  blushing  sun  ; 
While  yet  beneath,  of  various  dyes  and  grades, 
The  smaller  trees  and  shrubs  fill  up  a  scene 
Of  sweet  harmonious  contrast.     Yet  't  is  sad, 
And  sadness  clings  to  ev'ry  tinted  leaf 
And  murmurs  softly  in  the  passing  breeze. 

'T  is  but  the  passing  beauty  of  a  day ! 

The  flush  of  dissolution  on  the  cheek 

Of  the  declining  year !  and  even  now 

By  ev'ry  idle  puff  of  wanton  wind 

Some  leaflet  is  detached,  and  wav'ring  sinks 

Reluctant,  zigzag,  to  receiving  earth. 

And  still,  not  lonely  long !  the  first  rude  blast 

Shall  shower  their  fellows  like  the  falling  snow; 

And  leave  the  boughs  and  branches  stark  and  bare 

To  scourge  the  moaning  winds  that  left  them  so. 


176  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Earth  gave  the  infant  Year  his  spring-time  grace, 
Clothed  him  in  green  and  decked  his  brow  with 

flowers  ; 

He  throve  in  beauty,  and  the  Summer  came, 
And  with  it  strength  and  vigor ;  and  a  charm 
Of  thoughtful  and  expressive  tenderness 
Rested  on  all  beneath  the  deep  blue  sky. 

Now  golden  Autumn  holds  his  dreamy  sway, 

And  ripe  maturity  is  on  the  wane  ; 

While  earth  calls  on  the  Year  to  render  back 

His  worn  and  faded  garb.     Thus  piece  by  piece 

The  whole  is  given  back.     Old  and  bereft 

(While  desolating  Winter  comes  apace) 

The  beggared  Year  sinks  into  apathy, 

And  the  fierce  frost  shall  lock  his  feeble  pulse, 

The  virgin  snow  shall  be  his  winding- sheet ; 

The  bleak,  chill  winds  shall  chant  his  ftm'ral  dirgo, 

And  "  Father  Time  "  entomb  him  in  the  past. 


THE   SEASONS.  177 


WINTER. 

Winter  lias  come  !  the  boist'rous  winds  proclaim 
His  stormy  rule  o'er  forest,  field  and  glen, 
And  bear  his  chilling  mandates  on  their  wings. 
The  earth  is  naked,  and  the  leafless  twigs 
Hint  at  the  desolation  after  death  ; 
While  the  great  forest,  swaying  in  the  blast, 
And  tossing  wild  its  branches  to  the  clouds, 
Sings  a  sad  requiem  to  the  passing  gale. 

The  crested  clouds,  urged  by  the  chasing  winds, 
In  ragged  troops  career  along  the  sky, 
Like  ghostly  coursers  rushing  on  to  charge 
The  somber  phalanx  near  the  horizon ; 
While  the  retiring  sun,  far  to  the  south, 
Marks  the  diminished  arch  which  spans  the  dajr, 
And  throws  his  slanting  beams  along  the  earth 

In  scanty  numbers  and  devoid  of  warmth. 
12 


178  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

The  brook  is  dumb  beneath  its  icy  shroud, 
Or  only  murmurs  in  an  undertone 
Plaintive  remonstrance  'gainst  the  cruel  power 
Which  veils  it  thus,  in  solitude  and  gloom, 
To  grope  in  darkness  on  its  winding  course. 

Upon  the  tranquil  surface  of  the  lake, 

While  yet  it  slept  in  peaceful  quietude, 

The  frost -king  smote  with  his  congealing  wand, 

And  lo  !  a  polished  plain,  where  school-boys  glide 

And  wheel  in  wild  gyrations  to  and  fro, 

Scrolling  the  glassy  surface  of  the  deep, 

Firm  shod  on  furrowed  plates  of  polished  steel. 

And  now  a  change  !  the  sky  is  overcast, 
And  from  its  leaden  vault,  each  chasing  each, 
Descend  the  filmy  particles  of  snow. 
Faster  and  thicker  still  they  tumble  down, 
Veering  in  spiral  course  and  eddying, 


THE   SEASONS.  179 

Till  all  the  air  is  white  with  gauzy  flakes, 
Whirling,  commingling,  sinking  to  the  earth. 

The  clouds  dispel !  the  sun  glints  forth  again 
To  greet  the  world  arrayed  in  spotless  white. 
The  winds  are  muffled,  and  a  peaceful  calm 
Has  settled  over  all ;  while  here  and  there, 
Rising  unbroken  far  into  the  sky, 
Blue  shafts  of  smoke,  in  graceful  symmetry, 
Point  the  location  of  the  homes  beneath. 

The  frolic -loving  young  folk  are  astir,"1 
Mittened  and  muffled,  waiting  for  the  sleigh ; 
And  soon  the  air  vibrates  from  tuneful  bells, 
As  mettled  coursers  dash  along  the  way 
Responsive  to  the  driver's  word  of  cheer. 

Forth  launching  in  the  downy  element, 
With  mincing  step  and  ankle -scraping  gait, 


180  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

The  sturdy  urchin  plows  his  way  from  school, 
Stopping  anon,  perhaps  to  trace  his  name 
In  monstrous  capitals  beside  his  path, 
Or  cast  himself  full  length  upon  his  face, 
To  take  his  impress  in  the  yielding  drift. 

The  chill  and  silent  night  steals  on  apace, 
And  from  the  cold  blue  sky  the  myriad  stars 
Look  calmly  down  upon  the  shrouded  earth, 
And  tip  with  light  the  crystallated  snow. 
Along  the  northern  border  of  the  night 
Flash  up  the  footlights  of  the  arctic  stage  ; 
While  just  beyond,  extended  from  the  spheres, 
With  center  looped  into  the  Galaxy, 
Aurora's  ruffled  curtain  hangs  in  view. 


POEMS 


THE    FAR-WEST. 


(181) 


THE  LITTLE  LONE   GRAVE  ON  THE 
PLAINS. 


Two  days  had  the  train  been  waiting, 
Laid  off  from  the  forward  tramp, 
When  the  sick  child  drooped 
And  died,  and  they  scooped 
Out  a  little  grave  near  camp. 

Then  clad  in  its  scanty  garments, 
And  wrapped  in  a  threadbare  shawl, 

They  laid  it  away 

From  the  light  of  day, 
Amid  tears  and  sobs  from  all. 

Then  silently  covered  it  over, 
And  heaped  up  the  sandy  ground, 


184  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  gathered  a  pile 
Of  small  stones  meanwhile, 
And  placed  o'er  the  little  mound. 

God  pity  the  poor  young  mother, 
For  her  heart  is  wrung  full  sore, 

And  the  fresh  tears  start 

As  she  turns  to  part 
From  the  grave  forevermore. 

Bereft  of  her  heart's  young  idol, 
And  robbed  of  a  mother's  joy, 

How  could  she  but  grieve 

Forever  to  leave 
The  grave  of  her  darling  boy  ? 

O,  it  was  bleak  and  so  lonely ! 
O,  it  was  sad  and  so  drear ! 
Must  her  loved  one  sleep 


THE  LITTLE  LONE  GRA  VE.  185 

There,  where  none  could  keep 
A  friendly  vigil  near  ? 

Outside  of  civilization, 
Far  from  the  abodes  of  men, 

Where  the  cactus  blows 

And  the  wild  sage  grows, 
In  the  haunts  of  the  wild  sage  -  hen. 

No  tree  in  range  of  the  vision, 
No  beautiful  flowers  bloom, 

But  a  waste  of  sand, 

In  a  desert  land, 
Surrounds  the  little  tomb. 

No  birds  are  there  to  warble, 
No  sounds  on  the  breezes  float, 

Save  the  vulture's  "  caw," 

Full  of  dismal  awe, 
And  the  howl  of  the  grey  coyote. 


WESTWARD. 


"  Westward  the  course  of  empire  takes  its  way ;" 
Prophetic  speech  burst  from  a  soul  inspired ! 
Berkeley,  thy  words  a  thousand  times  each  day 
Are  spoke  by  Freedom's  sons  whom  hope  has  fired 
To  deeds  of  energy,  and  these  toil  on 
With  hopeful  hearts  toward  the  setting  sun. 

You  ask,  "  What  seek  they  in  the  Occident 9 
Why  left  they  homes  toward  the  Orient  ? 
Why  quit  they  social  ties  and  smiling  friends 
To  roam  where  stern  Privation's  self  attends  ? 
What  is  it  Hope  hath  whispered  they  shall  find 
Dearer  than  that  which  they  have  left  behind  ?  " 

Undying  Hope,  the  antidote  for  care, 
The  mortal  enemy  of  cold  Despair, 

186 


WESTWARD.  187 

Speaks,  and  her  glowing  words  are  thus  expressed : 
"  The  Star  of  Empire  glimmers  in  the  West ! 
Go.  earnest  toilers  !  though  your  work  be  hard, 
The  gen'rous  soil  shall  yield  you  rich  reward." 

They  seek  for  homes  —  not  such  in  name  alone  — 
But  homes  indeed  that  they  may  call  their  own  ; 
A  spot  to  build,  and  plant  the  tree  and  vine, 
And  when  't  is  done,  to  ponder,  "  This  is  mine  I 
These  loamy  acres,  like  the  rolling  sea, 
Shall  yield  their  bounteous  stores  to  mine  and  me." 

Though  their  abodes  may  be  uncouth  and  rude, 
And  hid,  perhaps,  in  Nature's  solitude, 
Time  kindly  tempers  them  unto  their  lot ; 
Love  throws  a  halo  round  the  sacred  spot ; 
Peace  and  contentment  fill  their  calm  retreat, 
And  health  and  vigor  make  existence  sweet. 

These  are  the  nation's  benefactors  ;  these  — 
From  earth's  four  quarters  crossing  stormy  seas  — 


188  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Receive  the  nation's  welcome  and  her  soil. 
Ye  rugged  sons  of  honorable  toil, 
Your  horny  hands  have  left  a  grand  impress 
Of  blooming  fields  far  in  the  wilderness. 

Your  fields  of  maize  and  rank  cereals  grow 
Where  roam  the  elk  and  shaggy  buffalo  ; 
Where  looks  the  red  man  on,  in  mute  dismay, 
To  see  his  latest  foothold  swept  away  ; 
Aye,  swept  away !  by  Nature's  stern  decree, 
The  march  of  empire  and  of  energy. 

O,  ye  who  canker  in  ignoble  ease, 
The  victims  of  luxur'ance  and  disease, 
Who  daily  grumble  out  your  worthless  lives, 
Take  heed  of  how  the  border  farmer  thrives ; 

* 

He  earns  his  bread,  and  smothers  discontent 
In  waging  war  on  ev'rv  element. 


SUNRISE  IN   THE   SIERRAS. 


Swiftly  the  rising  sun  dispels 

The  ling'ring  shades  that  haunt  the  dells, 

And  chasms  where  darkness  thickest  dwells 

When  Sol's  away, 

Now  catch  his  myriad  golden  threads, 
Unravelled  into  sunny  shreds  ; 
While  Darkness  westward  silent  treads 

His  somber  way. 

Down  mountain  -  gorge  and  rocky  steep 
The  hunted  shadows  silent  creep, 
Or  huddling  like  a  flock  of  sheep 

In  mute  dismay, 

They  turn  and  scud  in  hasty  flight, 
And  dodge  aud  duck  before  the  light, 


190  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

As  upward  sailing  comes  in  sight 
The  orb  of  day. 

Fair  scene  of  beauty  !  wild  and  grand 
As  e'er  the  bow  of  heaven  hath  span'd, 
Or  Nature  with  her  magic  wand 

Called  into  life  ; 
Or  ever  on  the  face  of  day, 
From  frozen  Greenland  to  Cathay, 
The  sun  hath  limned  with  glowing  ray 

In  wonders  rife. 

From  fountains  in  the  terraced  hills 
The  liquid  crystal  murm'ring  trills, 
Then  gathering  into  tiny  rills 

They  glide  away ; 

Down  streaming  o'er  their  rocky  beds, 
They  break  and  chafe  to  foamy  shreds  ; 
Then  o'er  the  brink  down  widening  spreads 

A  veil  of  spray. 


SUNRISE  IN    THE   SIERRAS.  191 

The  tow'ring  pines,  whose  leafy  boughs 
Made  pendant  by  the  clinging  snows 
Where  napping  "Winter  found  repose, 

Now  seem  to  be 

Tall  leafy  towers  of  living  green, 
With  tent  -  topped  fir  -  trees  thrown  between,. 
Each  blazoned  in  the  morning  sheen 

A  canopy. 

Wild  beetling  crags,  and  frowning  rocks, 
And  fissures,  where  volcanic  shocks 
Have  cleft  in  twain  the  pond'rous  blocks 

Of  earth  and  stone ; 
There  crimson  manzinetas  dwell, 
And  clumps  of  twisted  chaparral 
Cling,  and  the  scar  of  Nature's  spell 

Is  overgrown. 

Far  distant  gleam  the  rocky  walls 
Of  many  -  gabled  citadels  ; 


192  FACTS  AJVD  FANCIES. 

Sun -gilded  into  burnished  halls, 

They  flash  the  light 
From  spurs  of  crystal,  flint  and  spar, 
And  spangled  mica,  sparkling  far 
Like  beads  of  sweat  from  cinnabar 

Brought  out  to  sight. 

Far  up  the  mountain's  granite  face, 
The  farthest  spruce  -  tree  quits  the  race, 
A  stunted  victim  of  the  chase  ; 
While  wait  below — 

r  i 

Like  members  of  a  scattered  host, 
Whose  chief  betrayed,  whose  captain  lost,- 
Its  straggling  comrades  at  their  post 
To  brave  the  foe. 


THE  MINER'S   BURIAL. 

White  Pine,  Nevada,  1869. 


Par  up  the  mountain's  craggy  side, 
Upon  a  rudely -fashioned  bier, 
They  bore  him  out  from  where  he  died 
(His  cabin  near  the  rocky  slide,) 
With  scarce  a  word,  without  a  tear. 

They  hollowed  out  a  fitting  grave, 
Close  by  the  summit's  granite  rim, 
Then  gathered  'round  and  sung  a  hymn, 
And  placed  him  in  the  narrow  cave. 
"  To  ashes,  ashes  ;  dust  to  dust ;" 
Thus  was  performed  the  sacred  trust 
That  man  assumes  upon  his  birth, 
To  give  the  dead  again  to  earth. 

Up  to  his  tomb  will  clamber  still 
The  sounds  he  was  so  used  to  hear, — 


194  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

The  music  of  the  gad  and  drill 
Beneath  the  hammer,  sharp  and  clear ; 
The  deep -toned  thunder  of  the  blast 
A  tidal  wave  of  echo  cast 
Off  from  the  mountain's  rocky  crest, 
Shall  bear  his  spirit  off  to  rest. 

There  in  his  lofty  sepulcher, 

A  league  above  the  distant  plain, 

His  ashes  sleep  the  final  sleep  : 

And  passing  clouds  which  floating  skirr 

Across  the  vast  aerial  deep, 

In  shapes  of  rugged  majesty, 

Oft  kiss  his  tomb  in  passing  by. 

Or,  when  a  calm  is  in  the  air, 

Like  snowy  galleons  at  rest, 

They  peaceful  lie  at  anchor  there, 

To  shut  the  lower  world  from  view, 

And  point  aloft  to  heaven's  deep  blue, 

The  promised  haven  of  the  blest. 


THE   MIRAGE. 


Upon  a  parched  and   arid  waste, 
Beneath  the  scorching  summer  sun, 
Where  nimble  swifts  each  other  chased 
O'er  gaping  fissures,  checked  to  run 
Their  countless  millions  meshy  lines 
In  tangents,  angles,  arcs  and  sines, — 
A  field  where  Science,  urged  by  Art, 
With  Nature  for  a  counterpart, 
Might  with  her  pencil  sketch  and  pore 
O'er  varied  shapes  forevermore, — 
The  weary  trav'lers  struggled  on 
Across  that  stretching  sea  of  sand, 
A  famishing  and  thirsty  band. 
A  land  of  streamlets  to  have  won 
Had  been  to  them  a  paradise : 


'95 


196  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

When,  lo !  ahead  there  seemed  to  rise, 

Along  the  distant  horizon, 

A  scene  of  sylvan  loveliness, 

To  greet  them  in  their  sore  distress ; 

A  scene  where  winding  rivulets, 

All  fringed  with  branching,  shady  trees, 

Coursed  smoothly  o'er  their  sandy  beds, 

And  glimmered  far,  like  silv'ry  threads  ; 

Where  fountains,  with  a  thousand  jets, 

Flung  out  their  crystal  tapestries, 

To  form  in  many  a  glassy  pool 

In  shady  nooks,  serene  and  cool. 

And  then  a  change,  and  lo  !  a  lake, 
All  dotted  o'er  with  verdant  isles, 
Before  the  vision  peaceful  smiles  ; 
And  not  a  ripple  seems  to  break 
The  mirrored  surface  of  its  deep, 
While  somber  shadows  o'er  it  creep, 


THE   All  RAGE.  197 

Like  spiritual  argosies 

Borne  by  an  imperceptive  breeze. 

Upon  the  isles,  that  gently  swell 

Up  from  the  water's  curving  line,  * 

Gleams  many  an  airy  citadel, 

Where  princes  might  in  splendor  dwell, 

Or  poets  woo  the  mystic  Nine. 

Tall  trees  and  clumps  of  shrubbery, 

Supporting  many  a  clinging  vine 

That  hangs  in  rich  festoonery, 

Thus  forming  bowers  where  might  recline 

The  Beauties  of  Mythology, 

In  keeping  with  their  high  degree. 

Fresh  as  the  breath  of  early  Spring, 
Seductive  as  the  siren's  song, 
The  panorama  moves  along. 
The  wand  of  magic  seems  to  fling 


198  FACTS  AND  FANCIES, 

Its  mystic  beauties  o'er  the  scene. 
Oh,  why  must  space  still  intervene  ? 

Deceptive  picture  !  pure  and  chaste 
Damascus  of  the  western  waste  ! 

Where ah  !  it  fades !  it  melts  away ! 

Far  o'er  the  desert,  grim  and  gray, 

Along  the  hazy  horizon, 

Tall  mammoth  shapes  stalk  stately  on 

Across  the  visionary  range 

And  disappear  ;  and  then,  more  strange, 

A  band  of  mounted  harlequins 

In  madcap  antics  scour  the  plain. 

You  look  to  see  them  once  again, 

But  no  !  they  're  gone.     No  object  wins 

The  searching  eye  ;  all 's  blank  and. bare 

No  hint  of  beauty  lingers  where 

The  Mirage  spread  her  canopy 

And  moved  the  soul  to  ecstacy. 


MUSING. 


Standing  one  day  upon  the  mountain  side, 
Musing  with  folded  arms  on  nature's  plan, 
My  vision  swept  the  landscape,  far  and  wide, 
In  quest  of  something  to  compare  with  man, — 
Some  natural  object,  that  I  might  compare 
In  some  one  attribute  to  man's  estate, 
That  seemed  some  common  good  or  ill  to  share, 
Or  was  made  kindred  by  some  common  fate. 

Far  to  the  left  there  stretched  a  sterile  plain, 
Bounded  by  barren  mountains  grim  and  gray, — 
A  scene  where  Desolation  seemed  to  reign 
And  Solitude  chased  ev'ry  joy  away. 
'T  was  like  the  heart  whose  ev'ry  hope  is  dead, 

To  which  a  moment's  gladness  is  unknown, 

(199) 


200  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

The  weary  soul  whence  joy  and  peace  have  fled, 
Sinking  in  death  uncared  for  and  alone. 

Still  to  the  right,  far  up  from  where  I  stood, 
The  terraced  hills  rose  o'er  each  other  high, 
Till  crowning  all,  the  antipode  of  flood, 
Was  one  vast  peak  whose  summit  pierced  the  sky. 
Like  some  proud  autocrat  this  mountain  seemed, 
Whom  straggling  chance  had  placed  beyond  the 

rest, 

To  keep  aloof,  a  glorious  charter  deemed, 
Frowning  on  all  below  with  haughty  crest. 

Before  me  lay  a  hilly,  wooded  tract, 
A  mighty  forest,  stretching  far  away, 
Of  fir  and  cedar,  pine  and  tamarack ; 
A  goodly  host  of  trees  in  strange  array  : 
Some  stood  in  clumps,  compact  communities, 
With  still  a  few  among  them  that  did  vie 
In  rivalry  ;  while  overtopped  by  these 
Were  the  great  masses,  doomed  to  be  less  high. 


MUSING.  201 

Some  stood  apart  and  grew  in  solitude, 

And  these  were  deeply  rooted  in  the  soil, 

With  twisted  trunks,  and  branches  gnarled  and 

rude 

From  many  jostlings  in  the  savage  coil  • 
Of  chafing  storms,  which  often  and  again 
Rock  the  whole  forest  in  their  surging  wrath, 
Sweep    down    the    slopes    and    scour    the    level 

plain, 
To  spread  destruction  in  their  luckless  path. 

The  most  were  of  a  lively  verdant  hue, 
A  few  were  withered  by  the  light'ning's  stroke, 
And  some  were  slowly  dying  as  they  grew. 
Some  were  bare  poles  from  which  the  tops  were 

broke, 

Still  more  were  dead  and  leafless  at  the  top. 
Some  leaned  upon  their  neighbors  for  support, 
While  others  still  seemed  hunting  for  a  prop  ; 
Some  near  the  middle  had  been  broken  short. 


202  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Some  had  been  stript  of  bark,  and  branch,  and  leaf, 
And  stood  like  tow'ring  specters,  bleached  and 

white. 

Some,  once  environed  in  a  flaming  sheath, 
Were  left  grim  columns,  blacker  than  the  night. 
Hale,  and  diseased,  the  dying  and  the  dead, 
For  which  each  passing  breeze  sends  forth  a  call 
Which  is  obeyed :  before  its  unseen  tread 
Some  yield  their  place  and  totter  to  their  fall. 

Prone  stretched  in  all  the  stages  of  decay, 
Laid  low  by  time  and  tempest,  now  repose 
The  prostrate  giants  of  a  bygone  day, 
That  one  time  waved  their  verdant  boughs  like 

those 

That  now  o'ershadow  them  ;  but  now  they  lie 
And   crumble  back  to   earth  which  gave  them 

growth. 

Epitome  of  mutability ! 
Nature  is  change  !  mortality  is  both  ! 


A  RIDE  DOWN  A  FLUME. 


O,  a  sleigh -ride  is  fine  on  a  clear  moon -lit  night, 
When  the  steam  -  breathing  coursers  speed  on  like 

the  wind, 

While  the  varying  creak  of  their  footsteps  in  flight, 
And  the  clear  tinkling  bells,  leave  sweet  echoes 

behind. 
But  the  principal  charm  of  this  much  -  talked  -  of 

ride 

Is  the  fair  blusing  damsel  so  close  to  one's  side. 
And,  until  one  can  rise  like  a  kite  to  the  moon. 
The  king  of  all  rides  is  a  skim  down  a  flume. 

It 's  a  something  we  like  to  be  borne  by  the  gale 
O'er  the  wild  heaving  billows  that   greet  us  in 

spray, 

203 


204  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

When  the  masts  sway  and  bend,  and  the  taut,  well- 
filled  sail 

Still  seems  straining  to  haste  us  yet  faster  away. 

The  strange  pleasure  of  this  I  '11  not  try  to  ex 
plain, 

Because  many  have  taken  a  trip  o'er  the  main ; 

But  I  '11  say  (as  I  've  told  you  before,  I  presume,) 

There 's  no  journey  so  grand  as  a  ride  down  a 
flume. 

The  black  iron  monster,  which  sprung  like  a  dream 
From  the  brain   of   great   Stephenson,  bears  us 

along, 

With  a  clatter  of  wheels  and  a  hissing  of  steam, 
At  a  rate  that  deserves  to  be  mentioned  in  song. 
Then,  too,  there's  the  true  '-Yankee  notion"  of 

fun, 

The  sweet  tempting  morsel  of  risk  to  be  run. 
But  even  in  this,  I  shall  dare  to  assume 
The  advantage  is  still  on  the  side  of  the  flume 


A    RIDE  DOWN  A   FLUME.  205 

I  have  skimmed  o'er  the  plain  on  the  true-mettled 

steed, 

And  a  wild  inspiration  has  thrilled  ev'iy  nerve, 
While  testing  the  antelope's  marvelous  speed, 
Or  shying  the  buffalo  into  a  curve 
When  the  spirit 's  exultant  and  buoyant  as  air, 
And  nothing  is  felt  of  the  burden  of  care, — 
Wild,  reckless  bewilderment !     But,  to  resume, 
Even  this  falls  far  short  of  a  ride  down  a  flume. 

Then  in  snow  -  time  there  's  coasting,  when  young 
people  go 

With  their  trim  little  sleighs  to  the  top  of  some 
hill, 

And  each  pert,  dainty  miss,  with  her  gallant  young 
beau, 

Make  a  cargo  of  happiness  nothing  can  chill. 

Then  they  glide  down  the  incline  ;  behold  far  be 
low, 

Some  are  buried  from  sight  in  a  drift  of  soft  snow, 


206  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Then  arising  like  ghosts  from  the  grave  fresh  ex 
humed. 

O,  'tis  sport  to  be  "  chuted,"  but  more  to  be 
"  flumed." 

I  have  tried  nearly  all  locomotion  afloat, — 
Swimming,  rafting,  and  washtubing,  driving  the 

log; 
And  on  land,  slurring,  snow-shoeing,  "  riding  the 

goat," 

Which  last,  by  the  way,  is  a  little  incog. 
I  have  rode  on  a  shovel  down  mountains  of  snow, 
And  been  borne  like  a  straw  on  the  wings  of  a 

"  blow," 

Still  would  I  assert,  from  the  edge  of  the  tomb, 
That   there 's  nothing  like  glancing  along  in  a 

flume. 

"  And  what  is  a  flume?"  I  hear  somebody  say. 
"  And  how  do  you  navigate  ?  what  makes  it  go  ? 


A    RIDE  DOWN  A   FLUME.  20 T 

Has  it  wings,  wheels  or  rollers,  or  runners  ?  what 

way 

Does  it  operate  best  ?  on  bare  ground  or  on  snow? 
Does  it  run  best  in  calm  weather  or  in  a  breeze  ? 
If  you  know  aught  about  it  just  tell  if  you  please. 
Or  at  least,  let 's  have  silence  and  less  of  that  fume 
You  've   been  puffing   about   of  your   wonderful 

flume." 

In  the  far-off  Sierras,  from  valleys  below, 
Winding  upward  and  onward  in  serpentine  course, 
Creeping  up  the  tall  mountains  where  giant  pines 

grow, 
And  clear  streamlets  murmur,  now  silv'ry  now 

hoarse, 

As  they  tumble  in  cascades  or  dash  into  spray, 
In  their  joyous  career  down  the  steep  rocky  way, — 
Are    continuous    troughs,   which    the    sunbeams 

illume 
Like  a  bright  scaly  serpent :  and  this  is  a  flume. 


208  FACTS  AND   FANCIES. 

These  were  not  built  for  pleasuring,  as  you  should 
know, 

(And  the  timid  ones  seldom  take  passage  that  way) 

But  to  carry  down  wood  to  the  mines  of  Washoe. 

First,  the  streamlets  are  gathered  and  brought 
into  play, 

And  they  shoot  down  the  boxes,  a  thread  of  white 
foam, 

Bearing  downward  the  wood  from  its  grand  moun 
tain  home. 

Now  be  on  the  alert ;  watch  your  chance ;  very 
soon, 

If  you  mind  "  Number  One,"  you  can  ride  in  a 
flume. 

There's  a  snug  little  "jam"  coming  glimmering 

down ; 

Now,  leap  on  like  a  frog,  .and  away,  and  away 
Like  a  patch  of  pale  moonlight  when  chased  by. 

the  frown 


A   RIDE  DOWN  A    FLUME.  209 

Of  the  swift  -  footed  shadows.     A  halo  of  spray 
Marks  your  course  down  the  mountains,  o'er  gulch 

and  ravine  ; 

While  jets  of  pure  crystal  start  out,  and  careen 
Into  fantastic  shapes ;  and  small  rainbows  illume 
Your  wild,  mystical  flight  down  the  steep  winding 

flume. 

O,  the  wild  exultation  !  the  maddening  joy ! 
Like  an  arrow  you  speed  from  the  sinew -bound 

bow  ; 
From  the  pine -covered  mountains  your  odd  little 

hoy 

Gleams  along  like  a  flash  to  the  valley  below. 
The  mountains  dance  hornpipes,  and  trees  fade 

away 

To  a  maze  of  bewilderment.     Till  your  last  day 
Should  }rou  out -age  Methuselah,  still  I  '11  assume 
You  will  never  forget  3>mir  first  ride  in  a  flume. 

14 


THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  ROSE,  NEVADA. 

JULY  4,  1864. 


The  sun  peeped  brightly  o'er  the  bar 
Of  rugged  mountains,  brown  and  bare, 
That  stand  a  frowning  barrier, 
And  seem  to  guard  with  sullen  care 
The  treasure  that  lies  buried  there. 
There  Comstock  spied  the  cropping  lode- 
A  gold  and  silver  spangled  wall ; 
There  Mammon's  mythical  abode 
Had  slowly  crumbled  to  its  fall. 
There  now  the  echoes  leap  and  bound, 
And  dance  among  the  beetling  crags, 
From  rumbling  blasts  far  under  ground, 
Where  labor's  din  stops  not  nor  flags  ; 
But  night  arid  day  goes  ceaseless  on 


THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  ROSE.  211 

The  delving  in  the  gloomy  mine  ; 
For  when  one  toiling  gang  has  done, 
Another,  forming  into  line, 
Takes  up  the  shovel  and  the  pick, 
The  sledge,  the  gad,  and  ringing  drill, 
And,  lit  by  tallow  tapers  thick, 
Pursue  their  labors  with  a  will. 
Thus,  in  the  mountain's  bosom  deep, 
One  crew  is  in  the  shaft  or  drift 
While  one  is  wrapped  in  blissful  sleep, 
And  one,  the  next  on-coming  "  shift," 
Is  stirring  'round  to  take  the  air, 
Or  sauntering  about  the  town, 
Or  making  ready  to  repair 
Back  to  their  eight  hours'  labor  down. 
There  all  the  air  with  motion  trills 
From  dumping -cars,  whose  stony  hail, 
From  lofty  trestles  darting,  spills 
Against  the  ore -house  iron  mail. 
There  ceaseless  clang  a  hundred  mills, 


212  FACTS  AND   FANCIES. 

Whose  pond'rous  stamps'  incessant  shock 
To  powder  grind  the  precious  rock. 
Loud  as  the  din  of  blasting  war, 
These  hammers  of  the  mountain  Thor 
In  gulch  and  canon  far  resound, 
Till  rippling,  circling  waves  of  sound 
Spread  out  and  ruffle  far  and  wide, 
To  break  against  the  mountains'  side. 
A  thousand  engines'  labored  stroke, 
Each  marked  with  its  peculiar  sigh ; 
A  forest  of  black  shafts  of  smoke 
From  dingy  smoke -stacks  rising  high, 
There  greet  to-day  the  passer-by. 
There,  midway  up  the  rocky  slope 
Of  granite  -  crowned  Mount  Davidson, 
Stands  proud  Nevada's  boast  and  hope, 
The  first  to  greet  the  morning  sun, 
As  rising  from  his  sandy  bed, 
His  first  warm,  mellow  glance  is  shed 
On  fair  Virginia,  and  the  day 


THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  ROSE.  213 

Breaks  on  her  like  a  flash  of  spray. 

But  I  digress  !     The  rising  sun 

Shone  brightly  o'er  this  mighty  bar, 

And  sent  his  glowing  beams  afar 

O'er  Washoe's  Vale  and  Steamboat  Springs, 

And  like  a  bird  with  weary  wings. 

Seemed  to  alight  in  sweet  repose 

Upon  the  summit  of  Mount  Rose. 

Then  downward  swept  the  sunny  flood, 

Till  reaching  where  our  cabin  stood 

Among  the  foothills  in  the  wood. 

The  pine  -  trees  glistened  in  the  light ; 

I  never  saw  them  look  more  bright. 

The  air  was  balmy,  fresh,  and  soft, 

And,  looking  westward  and  aloft, 

We  then  resolved  —  my  "pard"  and  I  — 

(It  was  the  Fourth  day  of  July) 

To  spend  the  Nation's  holiday 

In  climbing  up  the  rugged  way, 

O'er  rocks  and  chasms  and  gaping  floes, 


214  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

That  scar  the  sides  of  old  Mount  Rose. 
So  starting  up  the  wooded  slope, 
We  reached  the  base  of  a  vast  mound, 
A  "sugar-loaf"  of  mellow  ground, 
Close  set  with  stately  pines  and  firs, 
And  carpeted  with  leaves  and  burs 
So  thick  that  on  the  giddy  steep 
We  sank  into  them  ankle  deep  ; 
And,  often  slipping  on  our  knees, 
We  were  compelled  to  use  the  trees 
(There  being  nothing  else)  perforce, 
When  sliding  back,  to  stay  our  course, 
Where,  panting,  we  would  rest  and  then 
Start  on  our  upward  course  again. 
When  near  the  top,  we  chanced  to  find 
Some  huge  quartz  boulders,  clinging  fast 
Unto  the  steep,  as  though  the  wind 
Had  brought  them  from  the  moon  and  cast 
Them  idly  there,  with  just  such  force 
As  part  inhumed  them  in  the  earth, 


THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  ROSE.  215 

Which  held  them  fast  and  stayed  their  course, 

And  claimed  them  as  a  native  birth. 

Here  was  a  tempting  chance  at  hand, 

To  witness  something  wild  and  grand. 

So  scrambling  up  to  where  one  clung, 

A  full  third  larger  than  the  rest, 

Which  seemed  but  ling'ring  there  at  best, 

So  nicely  was  the  balance^  hung 

That  held  it  in  its  place.     We  drew 

Away  the  withered  leaves  and  soil 

That  lay  about  its  under  side, 

Then  cut  a  pine-tree  root  that  tied 

The  monarch  in  his  mountain  chair 

It  moved  !  it  leapt  into  the  air  ! 
Then  bounding  downward  madly  flew, 
While  rumbling  echo  seemed  to  boil 
Among  the  hills,  as  'neath  its  blows 
The  great  trees  staggered  in  their  throes. 
Limbs,  bark  and  splinters  marked  its  track 
As  plainly  as  a  cataract. 


216  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Again  we  started  on  our  way. 

The  summit  reached  —  beyond,  there  lay 

A  slight  depression,  then  a  ridge, 

A  rocky  back -bone,  incline,  bridge, 

Or  stairway,  jagged,  rough  and  steep, 

Up  which  at  times  we  had  to  creep, 

And  climb  at  times,  at  times  to  leap. 

The  pines  and  firs  were  left  behind ! 

The  hardy  spruce  refused  to  grow  ! 

The  crinkly  chaparral  declined, 

And  lingered  'mong  the  rocks  below. 

The  gorges  were  all  filled  with  snow ! 

We  reached  a  point  and  look  about, 

And  found  our  stairway  blotted  out ! 

The  mountain  here  had  dropped  its  "  spurs," 

Its  hangers-on  and  followers, 

And  like  a  steeple  seemed  to  rise, 

A  solid  cone  up  to  the  skies. 

Up  this  we  struggled,  till  at  length 

We  reached  the  top — I  scarce  know  how  — 


THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  ROSE.  217 

And  stood  upon  the  mountain's  blow. 

Our  weary  limbs  and  wasted  strength 

Are  straightway  all  forgotten  now. 

What  vastness  and  sublimity 

Were  spread  before  our  eager  gaze ! 

What  wild  and  varied  scenery  ! 

What  pictures  for  the  poet's  lays  ! 

Among  the  passing  clouds  we  stood 

And  looked  about  us,  and  below, 

O'er  mountains,  valleys,  lakes,  and  wood, 

And  rivers  in  meandering  flow, 

As  lovely  as  God's  tinted  bow. 

East,  and  below,  lay  Washoe  Vale, 

The  Village,  and  the  shining  Lake, 

And  Steamboat's  boiling  springs,  that  pour 

Their  scalding  torrents  through  the  crust 

And  make  their  sounding  caverns  quake. 

As  struggling  currents  hiss  and  roar, 

A  hundred  seething  jets  of  steam 

Out  from  the  foaming  founts  are  thrust, 


218  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Along  the  white  crustation  seam, 
And  in  the  sunlight  palely  gleam, 
Weird  as  the  spectres  of  a  dream, 
And  yet  we  see  them  when  awake. 
Then  next,  the  gloomy  peaks  that  break 
The  morning  sunbeams  from  the  dale. 
Beyond,  the  desert  dim  and  pale, 
The  salt  lagoons  and  Carson's  Sink. 
Then  further,  like  a  stolen  link 
From  out  Sierra's  mighty  chain, 
Humboldt's  blue  peaks  rise  from  the  plain* 
While  far  on  the  horizon's  brink, 
Full  fifty  weary  leagues  away, 
Reese  River  Mountains  rise  on  high, 
A  jagged  wall  against  the  sky, 
The  seeming  eastern  verge  of  day. 
Northward  are  spread  the  Truckee  Meads, 
Where  Truckee  River  winding  speeds 
Toward  the  foothills,  where  lies  hid 
The  haunted  Lake  of  Pyramid  ; 


THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  ROSE.  21(J 

In  which  the  flashing  river  pours 
The  current  of  its  liquid  stores. 
There  like  a  sullen  pool  it  stands, 
Evaporates  and  feeds  the  sands ; 
The  wonder  of  the  desert  vale, 
The  scene  of  many  an  Indian  tale 
Of  love  and  valor,  virtue,  vice, 
And  treachery,  and  cowardice  : 
How  Manitou's  avenging  hand 
Had  overtook  some  graceless  braves, 
And  had  denied  them  common  graves 
And  refuge  in  the  Spirit  Land  ; 
But  doomed  their  bodies  to  the  waves, 
Their  spirits  to  the  lifeless  sand ; 
And  when  the  whirlwind  rages  high, 
These  mingle  with  the  sandy  grain 
And  mount  in  columns  to  the  sky, 
And  waltz  about  o'er  lake  and  plain, 
Then  dissipate,  to  rise  again 
Whene'r  the  whirlwind's  breath  is  nigh. 


220  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Next,  farther  north,  lies  Crystal  Peak  ; 

And  still  beyond,  the  Mountain  Twins 

Tower  side  by  side  so  brown  and  bleak ; 

Their  height,  and  shape,  and  sameness  wins 

Attention  from  the  roaming  eye 

By  reason  of  their  symmetry. 

Northwest  afar  looms  Lassen's  Butte, 

High  towering,  without  dispute, 

The  monarch  of  a  wide  domain 

Of  mountain -range  and  vale  and  plain. 

While  nearer,  carpeted  in  green, 

Sierra  Valley  lays  between. 

Next,  westward,  spreading  out  below, 

Pride  of  the  waters  of  the  world, 

Sierras'  gem,  famed  Lake  Tahoe, 

Among  the  craggy  peaks  enfurled, 

Extends  her  mirrored  sheet  elate  ; 

Her  eastern  shore,  the  Silver  State, 

Her  western,  California. 

There  like  a  sleeping  nymph  she  lay 


THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  ROSE.  221 

In  isolation  hid  away. 

From  old  Mount  Rose  range,  side  by  side, 

Southward,  a  long  majestic  chain 

Of  wooded  mountains.     Ophir  Slide, 

A  lofty  summit  cleft  in  twain 

By  melting  snows,  has  ta'en  a  ride 

And  caught  a  footing  on  the  plain. 

We  let  our  vision  roam  again, 

And  catch  a  view  of  Carson's  stream, 

A  river  lovely  as  a  dream  ; 

Fresh  from  the  haunts  of  lasting  snow, 

It  carries  gladness  in  its  flow 

Along  the  grassy  vale  below. 

Next,  Silver  Mountain  strikes  the  view  ; 

Its  proud  companion,  tried  and  true, 

The  Great  Mogul,  is  full  in  sight, 

Full  crowned  in  never -failing  white, 

And  chief  among  the  Alpine  crew. 


TO  A  MOSS -AGATE. 


Beautiful  gem  of  the  desert !  a  chaste, 

A  marvelous  structure  is  thine  ; 
Within  thy  transparency  Nature  has  traced 

The  delicate  crystal  moss -vine. 

Oh,  how  long  on  this  waste  hast  thou  slumbered, 
Thy  presence  till  now  all  unknown  ! 

And  what  ages  of  time  hast  thou  numbered, 
Thou  fair -pictured  pellucid  stone. 

Oh,  thou  wonderful  work  of  creation, 

Thou  nugget  of  petrified  glass ! 
Wert  thou  once  but  a  liquid  formation  ? 

Didst  thou  steal  a  moss -sprig  from  the  grass? 


222 


TO  A   MOSS-AGATE.  223 

Or  wert  thou  first  under  the  water  ? 

Did  the  lichen  environ  thee  there  ? 
And  harden  and  crystallize  after, 

When  brought  to  the  sunlight  and  air  ? 

Within  thee  have  two  kingdoms  united 
Their  types  of  formation  and  growth ; 

And  by  thee  is  neither  one  slighted, 
Thou  wonderful  model  of  both. 

Beauteous  badge  of  the  tribe  of  Manasseh ! 

Fair  growth  of  the  fullness  of  time  ! 
Thy  kind  had  long  since  and  still  has  a 

True  merit  in  every  clime. 

Here  alone  hast  thou  lain  all  these  ages, 

Half  hid  in  the  dull  lifeless  sand, 
A  thing  fit  to  puzzle  the  sages 

Or  deck  e'en  the  daintiest  hand. 


FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

True,  the  amethyst,  diamond  and  ruby 

Are  gems  of  a  costlier  ray  ! 
But  in  exquisite  natural  beauty 

Thou  'rt  even  more  favored  than  they. 


THE   GOLD -SEEKER'S   DREAM. 


At  his  length  on  the  ground,  with  his  blanket 

around  him, 
Near  the  bank  of  a  stream,  an   old  prospecter 

lay; 
'T  was  his  home  for  a  time,  for  there  sunset  had 

found  him, 
And  there  he  was  camped  till  the  coming  of  day. 

Not  a  cloud  in  the  blue  starry  vault  that  hung 

o'er  him, 

The  moon,  a  pale  crescent,  was  sailing  the  sky, 
And  the  pine  -  trees  gleamed  out  in  the  starlight 

before  him, 
And  nodded  as  Zephyr  went  wandering  by. 

15  225 


220  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

The  clear  dancing  streamlet  ran  frolicking  near  him , 
Like  the  babbling  of  children  with  something  to  say 
Which  they  thought  of  importance,  but  seeming  to 

fear  him, 
Grew  timid  and,  murmuring,  hastened  away. 

He  could  hear  the  faint  sound  of  the  pine-needles 

moving, 
When  kissed  by  the  breath  of  the  pure  mountain 

air, 

Like  the  softest  of  voices  in  gentle  reproving, 
Or  the  whispers  of  wood-nymphs  assembled  at 

prayer. 

There  was  something  so  lovely,  yet  weird  and  so 

lonely, 

In  the  night  scene  around  him  so  vividly  wrought, 
(For  he  knew  of  humanity  he  was  the  only 
Within  many  long  miles,)  that  it  wakened  his 

thought. 


THE   GOLD -SEEKER'S  DREAM.  227 

And  his  thoughts  took  him  back  to  the  home  of 

his  childhood, 
To   his   father  and    mother   now   gone   to   their 

rest, 
And  his  sisters,  and  brothers,  and  friends,  and  the 

wild  wood, 
And,  dearer  than  all,  the  fair  girl  he  loved  best. 

Ah,  Katie !   sweet  Katie !   how  dearly  he   loved 

her, 
With  her  brown  sunny  ringlets  and  eyes  of  deep 

blue, 
And  he  thought  that  for  worlds  he  could  not  have 

reproved  her, 
And  had  felt  in  his  heart  she  would  ever  be  true. 

Then  he  thought  how   he  left  for  the  "  New  El 

Dorado," 
How  hope's  beacon  of  promise  shone  bright  in  the 

West, 


228  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  the  pledges  and  vows  he  and  Katie   then 

made,  oh ! 
The  thought  of  it  since  oft  had  robbed  him   of 

rest. 

Then  the   years   of   his  toil   on  the  Yubas  and 

Feather, 

And  the  keen  disappointment  he  felt  long  ago, — 
His  sickness,  and  losses,  and  hardships  at  Fraser, 
And  at  last  how  his  hope  had  gone  out  at  Washoe. 

Then  he  thought  of  the  letters  his  Katie  had  wrote 

him, 
His  last  answer,  "  I  '11  come  when  I  get  enough 

gold;" 
His  ill-luck,  then  his  silence ;  the  last  how  it  smote 

him ! 
For  poor  Katie  was  dead,  and  himself  was  grown 

old. 


THE   GOLD- SEEKER'S  DREAM.  229 

Yes,  Katie  had  died — died  of  watching  and  wait 
ing— 

For  time  brought  no  tidings  of  him  far  away  ; 

And  the  bloom  left  her  cheeks  and  her  life  kept 
abating, 

Till  they  laid  her  to  sleep  in  the  churchyard  one 
day. 

Thus  musing,  his  rest  deepened  into  a  slumber, 
Unconscious  his  ear  of  the  murmuring  stream  ; 
No  longer  he  saw  the  bright  stars  without 

number, 
And  his  thoughts  softened  down  to  the  loveliest 

dream. 

He  dreamed  he  was  back  in  the  elm-shaded  village, 
He  could  see  the  old  church,  with  its  steeple  so 

white ; 
While  beyond,  with  its  orchard,  and  meadow,  and 

tillage, 


230  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Stood  the  tile -covered  house  where  he  first  saw 
the  light. 

Again  he  was  young,  full  of  hope,  health  and  vigor, 

And  with  footsteps  elastic  he  hurried  along, 

For  his  heart  was  untouched  by  the  world's  cruel 

rigor, 
And  there  sprang  to  his  lips  little  snatches  of  song. 

T'ward  a  little  stone  cottage,  with  ivy  embowered, 
He  hastened,  for  oft  he  had  been  there  before, 
With  heart  beating  wildly,  with  love  near  o'er- 

powered, 
He  stood  on  the  threshold !  he  knocked  at  the  door ! 

A  light  step  in  the  hall,  a  "  Come  in,"  and  before 

him, 

Rich  in  youth,  and  in  beauty,  and  natural  charms, 
Stood  his  own  darling  Katie ;  she  did  not  ignore  him, 
But  with  glad  acclamation  she  flew  to  his  arms. 


THE   GOLD -SEEKER'S  DREAM.  231 

Oh,  the  rapture  and  joy  that  seemed  poured's  o'er 

his  spirit, 
Like  the  soft  balmy  breeze  that  floats  over  the 

plain, 
And  the  voice  of  his  Katie,  his  heart  thrilled  to 

hear  it, 
As  its  accents  fell  sweet  on  his  ear  once 


Then  out  through  the  village  and  down  the  green 
heather, 

Where  the  tall  willows  fringe  the  meandering 
brook, 

They  walked  arm-in-arm,  and  they  talked  on  to 
gether, 

And  they  lingered  again  in  the  sweet  shady 
nook. 

The  wild   flowers   bloomed  'mong  the   trees   all 

around  them, 
And  the  birds  sweetly  sung  in  the  branches  above, 


232  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

And  there,  while  the  spell  of  rich  harmony  bound 

them, 
He  told  her  anew  the  old  story  of  love. 

Then  they  talked  of  the  future,  so  bright  in  its 

seeming, 

For  the  love  in  their  hearts  cast  a  halo  of  bliss, 
And  Katie's  sweet  face  seemed  with  happiness 

beaming, 
As  on  her  sweet  lips  he  imprinted  a  kiss. 

He  awoke!     In  the  east,  o'er  the  hill -tops  ap 
pearing, 

Shone  the  radiant  sun  across  mountain  and  glen  ; 
But  above,  a  dense  cloud,  to  the  horizon  Hearing, 
Veiled  the  face  of  the  morn  in  dark  shadows  a.^ain. 

It  looked  like  an  omen  of  blight  and  of  sadness, 
For  his  life  seemed  a  blank  whence  the  sunshine 
had  gone  ; 


THE   GOLD -SEEKER'S  DREAM.  233 

And  his  dream  was  the  shadow  of  vanishing  glad 
ness, 
And  he  sighed  for  the  joys  that  forever  were  flown. 

Then  he  packed  up  his  blankets,  his  flour,  and 

his  bacon, 

And  shouldered  his  pick,  and  his  shovel  and  pan ; 
With  his  hope  gone  to  sleep,  never  more  to  awaken, 
He  "  lit  out  for  new  diggins"  a  heart-broken  man. 


Poor  wreck  of  proud  manhood  !    toil,  hardship, 

and  danger 
Have  weakened  his  frame,  and  obscured  him,  in 

part ; 
But  his  bacon  and  flour  he  '11   divide   with  the 

stranger, 
And  the  spirit  of  kindness  is  housed  in  his  heart. 


THE   OX -TEAMSTER  OF  WASHOK 


A  cloud  of  dust  upon  the  plain, 

It  seems  to  move,  but  very  slow ; 

We  gain  upon  it  as  we  go, 

And  find  the  cause,  a  freighter's  train ; 

Ten  yoke  of  oxen  from  Washoe, 

Plodding  the  ashy  alkali, 

With  "  mountain-schooner  "  safe  in  tow, 

And  "  back-action"  and  "jerkwater" 

All  coupled  to  the  stern  of  her. 

Of  flour  and  whisky  bound  for  Reese 

Consisted  the  car^o, 

In  charge  of  the  great  "bull whacker" 

Surnamed  Missouri  Joe. 

But  ere  we  had  caught  up  to  him,  * 

In  solemn  tones  and  slow, 


THE   OX-  TEAMSTER   OF    W A  SHOE.          235 

We  heard  the  voice  of  hoarse  command 
Proceed  from  Captain  Joe  ; 
And  saw  him  prancing  in  the  sand, 
Gesticulating  with  his  hand, 
And  brandishing  a  fearful  brand. 
And  thus  he  gave  his  feelings  vent 
In  threats  and  rough  admonishment, 
Upon  the  ears 
Of  twenty  "  steers," 
Advising  them  to  go : — 

"  Yhea  Bailey !  you ! 

Up,  Mike  !  yhea  Blue  I 

BJast  your  old  tripes, 

I  '11  put  more  stripes 

Across  your  hides 

Nor  ever  streaked 

A  zebra's  sides ! 

Haw,  Doc  !  stan'  up  ! 

Brigham,  you  pup ! 

J  '11  get  inside 


236  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Your  Mormon  hide 
With  this  yer  brad, 
Ef  you  don't  slide  ! 
You,  Bill,  I  say ! 
D — n  your  old  soul ! 
Crowd  on  the  pole 
Now  will  you,  hey  ? 
Haw,  Nig !  whoa  hush  ! 
You  just  go  in, 
'R  I  '11  raise  the  plush 
On  your  black  skin, 
You  bet !     Yhea  Mike  ! 
Dan!  Darby!  Pike!    • 
You  on  the  lead ! 
Ef  you  don't  go 
I  '11  let  you  know 

Who  buys  yer  feed ! 

Stranger,  good  day  ! 
'  Fine  team,'  you  say? 
I  should  say  yes, 


THE   OX-  TEAMSTER   OF    WASHOE.          23' 

I  rayther  guess 
They  is  that  same. 
If  they  aint  good 
Joe  aint  my  name. 
Stranger,  see  yere  ! 
That  nigh  lead  steer 's 
Spry'r  an'  a  deer  ; 

And  knowin'  too 

(Stan'  up  thar,  Blue  !) 
What  he  don't  know 
'Bout  teamin'  tho' 
Don't  'mount  to  much. 
'Bout  twenty  such 

Would  make  things  howl. • 

Oh  no  !  guess  not  J 
No  chance  ;  you  bet 
They  '<!  make  things  get 
Ef  they  got  'foul 

A  load  't  was  sot, 

(You,  Darby  !  Spot !) 
Yes,  all  good  steers ; 


238  PACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

But  him,  lie  '«  prime, 
He  's  right  on  time, 
Star  number  one. 
No  son  o'  a  gun 
With  hide  an'  horns 
Was  ever  born 

Could  copper  him 

(Stan'  up  thar,  Tim  !) 
And  gritty  ?     Lord  ! 
To  see  him  fight ! 
You  take  my  word 
It 's  quite  a  sight. 
Har  flies,  you  bet, 
When  he  gits  set 
On  war  ;  he  '11  bite 

Worse  than  a  dog, < 

Stranger,  you  laugh ! 
You  think  I  chaff; 
But  I  'm  a  hog 
Ef  it  aint  true  ! 
'Twixt  me  an'  you, 


THE   OX-  TEAMSTER   OF    W A  SHOE.  239 

Don't  half  the  men 
Know  more  'n  that  steer  ? 
Least  ef  they  do, 
Whar  I  hev  been 
It  don't  appear. 
Which  is  the  best  ? 
Could  n't  say,  on  oath, 

After  a  test ; 

• 

I  drives  with  both 
Upon  the  road, 
Both  whip  and  goad  ; 
Goad  for  short  range, 
(Yhea  Duke  !  you  Rock !) 
Lash  for  the  lead, 
That 's  what  I  need 
To  stir  the  stock. 
It  may  seem  strange, 
But  when  a  steer 
Gets  a  good  stroke 
Of  this  yer  lash, 
He  '11  push  right  brash 


240  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

Agin  his  yoke, 
You  bet !  it 's  queer  ! 
You  're  goin',  hey  ? 
Well,  pard,  so  -  long  ! 
I  '11  go  it  strong 
To  keep  in  view. 
Haw  Brigham,  you ! 
Bailey!    Mike!  Blue! 
Nig!   Darby!    Doc! 
Dan!    Spotty!    Rock! 
Blast  your  old  trumps, 
Stir  up  your  stumps  ! 
YheaWhitey!    Brin! 
Duke!    Gerry!    Tim! 
You  Dandy !    Jake  ! 
Pike!    Paddy!    Blake! 
Yhea  !   bully  boys  ! 
I  '11  put  more  welts 
On  your  old  pelts 
Nor  's  on  a  suit 
Of  corduroys." 


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